


Into the Moors

by MysticMoonhigh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Dean is a dick for a little while, Destiel - Freeform, Doctor!Sam, Fairies, Frottage, Hurt!Cas, M/M, Magic, Maleficent - Freeform, Sabriel - Freeform, Smut, Young Dean, Young Sam, alternative universe, creature!dean, demisexual!Cas, fae, magic use, onesided megstiel, young cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 53,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2568356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticMoonhigh/pseuds/MysticMoonhigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A gust of wind washed over his face, accompanied with a loud thud as something landed on the rock where he lay.</p><p>Castiel sat up, jumping as his eyes met with the large, black ones of the predator. He scampered back as far as the rock would let him, eyes glued to the other. The thing’s face pulled back in a half-snarl half-sneer, and Castiel felt his heartbeat pound in his ears. Cas’s eyes flickered up and down his form, trying to piece together the situation. Black, twisting horns protruding from his head, wings the same colour as Sam’s, but with more black and less pattern variation. Shirtless, pale skin and short blonde hair.</p><p>He dropped to his hands and knees, slinking forward towards Cas with a grace Cas had never seen before."<br/>~<br/>An alternative universe fic set up in the world of Disney's "Maleficent". (Does not follow the plot of the Maleficent movie.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I'm SO sorry that this is so late-- and by late I mean that I said this would be out sometime around the beginning of season ten. Part of the reason it's so late is because it ended up 54,000 words long, when it was only originally intended to be 30,000 words long. But I can't write anything short, so here you guys go.  
> Thank you all so much for the support I received in writing this!  
> Oh, and the cover picture I made myself :-)

 

Castiel approached the tall-standing forest, clutching his small knife close to his chest. Brilliant green trees stretched up from around a wall of thorns, twisted and charred and broken. His kingdom had tried many times to burn them down. They stayed stretched up to the sky, leaving an imprint of danger on the minds of whomever decided to view them. He stepped forward just a little bit, small body shaking.

 

The one rule he'd been held to, his entire life, was not to go into the moors. His parents and the other civillians warned of the danger they possessed, warned of the fae inside them. The multiple species of fae whom had supposedly attacked villagers for centuries, dragging their souls down to the pits of hell, never to return. Castiel had heard horror stories. Lately, though, the place had not left his mind.

 

Castiel, a seven-year-old farm boy from a town nearby, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He'd been playing by the place, marveling at the wonders, when he stumbled across something both fascinating and terrifying. A small gateway in the thorns, straight back to the green and open moors.

 

At first, he'd simply stared at it, fascination and temptation both fighting to win over his common sense. The moors had always seemed beautiful and exotic to him, no matter what the villagers claimed of creatures of evil. Castiel believed that there was a certain kind of magic, something he just couldn't seem to shake from his young imagination. He'd always secretly wanted to explore what was behind those walls.

 

His mother cried out his name. He jerked away from the walls, logic finally winning the battle. He'd turned back and ran towards his small farmhouse, not stopping until he'd finally reached the safety of his home. His mother scolded him for being out so close to the wall, but she never realized just how dangerous he'd let it become. In that moment, he had almost crossed into the fairy realm.

 

In his heart, he truly believed that if he went there, he would never come back.

~~~

It started out small. Occasional whisperings of his name, the kind young children were prone to hear when no one was around. Slowly, it grew into more of a problem. The whispering turned to heated demands, calling out to him. His body felt tugged towards the great wall of thorns, always. He hadn't dared go back to the moors since that day, for fear that he be too weak to stop himself from entering the fair land. For fear that he may never return.

 

He'd played in the fields with the other children, he'd tried his best to ignore the call. The feeling slowly creeping through his bloodstream, the feeling that he's going to have to go eventually. The moors cried out to him, and his soul wept of home sickness even when he knew that he was home. He told no one he was bewitched, though he was certain that this was the cause of his ailment.

 

When he was nine, he could no longer resist the call.

 

The house shook and shuddered as thunder and lightning cackled, dancing intimately in the sky above. Castiel watched with fascination from his bedroom window, if only to distract him from the gaping want. His soul tugged him towards the door, stronger than it had ever been before. His resolve had slowly been crumbling in the last months, his longing for the forest seeming to become the only thing he could think of. He was tired, oh so tired of resisting the call. He felt weary and broken and longed for nothing more than to at least walk down to the moors.

 

He'd grown, significantly since he was seven. Three inches, his mother had told him. Rough housing with his older brothers Michael and Lucifer had given his muscles some shape.

 

The sky was a dark grey, fog permeating through the land. If he were to leave and walk towards the moors now, none would be able to recognize him. He could protect himself. There was no danger of him being tempted to pass through the entrance he had found now; for his size and strength both had grown so that he was certain he would not fit. It may help the weeping in his heart, though, if he were just to see the thorns, to gaze up at the trees, as he had on sunny days when he was younger.

 

So, as if in a trance-like state, he walked through his house, tip-toeing. He passed his mother working in the kitchen, passed his brothers passing a ball back and forth in the bedroom. As he stepped outside, he heard a twinkling crash of a vase falling to the floor as someone (Lucifer, probably) broke it. He flinched at the creak the door made as he stepped outside, gasping as lightning lit up the grey sky. His eyes scanned the horizon as rain pelted down on his head.

 

His shoes sank into the mud as he walked, clothes becoming heavier and heavier with the weight of rain water. He made his way to the wall slowly, feeling the weight in his heart lighten with every step he took. Hearing the whispers increase, he quickened his pace. They only ever said his name, but he knew what they meant. He knew more than anything else that they were begging him to come and embrace their twisted home.

 

Finally, the wall loomed just a foot in front of him. The air was heavy as thunder rolled again, and he reached out to let his fingers trail along the rough bark of the tree.

 

Suddenly, the bark stirred. The trees began to move, bending and twisting. The wood groaned under the force the magic had on it, and it left a small opening. Castiel watched in morbid fascination as the opening grew, as if responding to his touch. He felt a smile involuntarily stretch itself across his face, even as his mind screamed at him that this was  __ nobadwrongnotgood _ _ _ .  _ He tried to squish the joy in his heart as the hole stopped, leaving it just the right size for Castiel to climb through. The forest, it seemed, was ready to embrace him.

 

He was sick of fighting it. Sick of denying himself of the only thing he'd ever wanted. Sick, especially, of listening to his older brother and father talk about how bad the moors were, talk about how they should just be destroyed. He wanted to give in, more than he had wanted anything else in his entire life.

 

A small voice in his head told him that there was no way this was real. The same small voice prompted that it was a dream or an illusion, to explore it while it lasted. To embrace his humanity and climb through the hole, while he still had the chance. Then the moors that had been shouting his name for two years, finally whispered something a little different.

 

“ _ _There is no danger here. Come in, Castiel.”__ Cas heard. The sound echoed in his head. Yes, he'd lived his entire life obeying his father and the village, but he felt it was never too late to change. He knew his older brothers disobeyed by sneaking off at all hours of the night to see girls. This situation was, while different, applicable to the concept. It was his time to finally do something other than obey for once.

 

So, he found himself dropping to his hands and knees. The rough earth scraped against his palms as he crawled through the tunnel, until grass began to caress his calloused skin. A few seconds of wiggling and going towards the light on the other side, and he was blinded by sunlight. In the moors, there was no storm.

 

He jumped as the wall closed in behind him, leaving him trapped in the strange place. He gulped, unsure whether or not to regret his choice. Hands shaking, he stood up and brushed the dirt off of his pants.  __ Well,  _ _ he thought, glancing around at the greenery,  __ It's too late to go back now. Hopefully I've made the right decision. _ _

 

When he looked up from his dirt-covered hands, he froze up in surprise. A little boy about his age was staring at him, warm brown eyes and floppy brown hair covering his forehead. A piece of fabric was tied around his waist, and his lips turned up into a brilliant smile. The beginnings of two small horns were visible, reminding Castiel vaguely of the horns he'd seen on moose. A pair of sandy-colored wings stretched out from behind him, as if he had just landed from flight. They pulled towards his body, and he stood up straight.

 

He offered a hand to Castiel. Castiel took a step back, hand grasping the knife in his pocket. He never left home without it, and he was prepared to defend himself if it came right down to it. The young boy frowned, as if he had been expecting a reaction very different than the Castiel had produced. His wings puffed out the slightest bit as he stepped back, his eyes taking a gentle tone to them. Castiel's hand closed around the knife, but he dared not reveal it. No, he would only attack if it proved necessary.

 

“Hey. Uh, hi.” The young boy said, gently. Castiel felt himself relax. Well, at least this thing spoke his language. Actually, it did sort of look like a human... “I mean you no harm. I'm just, well, it gets a little lonely out here sometimes.”

 

The boy looked sheepish as he said this, his previously outstretched hand falling to his side, a bit awkwardly. Castiel still wasn't sure whether or not he would be able to trust him, but he let himself relax just the slightest bit more. The boy smiled again, and took a step forward. This time, Castiel failed to tense. “My name is Sam. I'm not supposed to let humans in here, but I saw you playing by the wall a couple of years ago and made an opening. When you ran away, I got a little desperate and enchanted the wall to call to you. I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

 

Something clicked in Castiel's head. Forgetting that there was danger here, he said, “So you were the one who was calling out to me? You made that happen?”

 

If Castiel wasn't mistaken, Sam looked down and blushed. He nodded his head, and his wings puffed out behind him. “I understand if you don't like me now, but I just wanted a friend. My brother is always off with my dad, and I'm left all alone. I was wondering if you would teach me about human culture? I mean, as a fae, I know almost nothing. Really, I think things would go better if we all just communicated efficiently.”

 

It took Cas a moment to comprehend what Sam had said. He felt a very small smile pull across his face as he considered the statement. The faery had wanted to make friends with him. He hadn't been going crazy. And, of course, most important of all, the fae weren't what everybody made them out to be.

 

“I suppose I could teach you. I need your word that you won't harm me, though.” Castiel said, inching forward. Sam smiled broadly, nodding his head.

 

He walked away, and gestured for Cas to follow him. Castiel waited only a moment before he forced his feet to move, feeling the grass brush up between his bare toes. Everything seemed more vibrant here, like a huge multicoloured painting. Castiel had never felt more in touch with his surroundings than he did then. It was, of course, hard not to when you felt like nature was literally reaching out to you.

 

Sam eventually came to a small clearing, and Castiel watched in fascination as he waved his hand, and trees scooted back. The clearing was wider now. With another wave of Sam's hand, a large stump grew, suiting for a table. Two mushrooms grew next to each other to the side of it, creating the perfect place for them to sit. Sam walked over and sat down in one, gesturing for Castiel to take the other. When he sat, the plant sank down, and he put a hand onto the table to balance himself.

 

“So, what's it like living the life of a human?” Sam asked, immediately. Castiel stared blankly at him. After all, that wasn't a very typical first question to ask someone.

 

“Well, it's not fun. There are many rules to follow, most of them are explained with lies. I spend a lot of my time reading, when I can. I don't like to be around many new people.” Castiel explained, shifting. Sam nodded his head eagerly, gesturing for Castiel to continue. “I work on a farm. My brothers are constantly getting into trouble. Mother calls me the good kid, because I don't break rules all that often.”

 

Castiel bit his lip, pushing down the guilt he felt for coming there. His mother was probably worried sick about him right now, especially with the storm brewing. He frowned, shaking his head at the idea. Hopefully, she wouldn't check his room, and would assume that he was reading again (they only kept a bible in the house, but at least it was something).Cas knew that that pretense couldn't last forever, though, and he'd eventually have to get pulled back into the human world. Even thinking about it made him want to cling even harder to the beautiful sights that surrounded him.

 

So, he slowly began to open up to Sam. He told him of the market place with the large fountain he sometimes threw coins into, he told him about his chores and his brothers and how many wars their country has been in. He finally, cautiously, told him about what the humans think of the fae, and the things he was told. Sam frowned, looking down at the ground.

 

“It wasn't always that way, you know.” He said, frowning. “My dad used to like the humans. Humans used to like all of us. I really don't like the way things have become. I mean, we have so much to learn from each other.”

 

“Well, it doesn't have to be that way for us.” Castiel said. He hadn't made a lot of friends back in the village; making one now couldn't hurt. Besides, he was still thinking a little bit that this was all an elaborate dream created by his mind to quell the aching want in his heart. It would be back when he was home again, sure. But, honestly, he'd take what he could get for now.

 

“You're offering to be my friend? Castiel, I would love that.” Sam said, smiling. With his smile, his wings fluffed up and out behind him, allowing Cas to catch little snippets of black colouring towards the insides to show. Cas fought the urge to ask to touch them; the wings were absolutely fascinating, especially in the modge-podge lighting filtering through the trees. Shapes where the light snuck through the branches laid in patterns over Sam's body, and Cas felt oddly like he were staring at a painting.

 

Then, the shapes were filled. Briefly, a darkness swept over them, covering Sam before it was gone. Fear caused Sam to jump, looking nervously towards the sky. He bit his lip, indecision clear in his gaze. His eyes flickered back to Cas, and he sighed. “I think you have to go now. Dad won't be happy if he finds out I let a human in here. That was my brother, Dean. If he sees you here, he's sure to tell dad.”

 

Castiel nodded, trying not to let fear get the best of him. Was Sam's father the monster they spoke of in the moors? He rose from his seat, brushing the dirt off of his knees and bottom. Sam did the same, and when Cas turned back, a hand was extended towards him. Cas wasn't entirely sure whether or not to take it, so he just stood awkwardly, until Sam lowered the hand with a bit of a frown.

 

“Are you going to come?” He asked, turning. Castiel nodded, falling into step besides him. As they exited the quiet meadow, the trees shrank back around it. Castiel took a fleeting glance backwards just in time to see the table they had used slowly fade into the ground, along with the chairs. He felt a little bit sad, but he knew that they could come back whenever Sam wanted them. Sam seemed like a very powerful being.

 

“So, I suppose this is goodbye.” Castiel said. Sam nodded his head. Cas gave a sigh and watched as the wall began to open again, the gnarled roots making way for his small body. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled through, turning back around once he was. Sam's smiling face appeared on the other side.

 

“Castiel, I want you to come back sometime. We have to be careful, but when you can, come.” He said, genuinely. Cas felt the warm bloom of friendship start in his heart. This “Sam”, while strange and beautiful, wanted to talk to him still. Castiel knew that all logic pointed towards Sam tricking him in the end, but he honestly couldn't find himself caring. There was a pause, and then Sam lit up. “Oh, yeah! Here, I'll remove my enchantment. You shouldn't have to deal with that all day long.”

 

Sam waved his hand, and Cas had a moment where he felt vaguely unattached to the earth. After a moment, things were back to normal. He shook his head, blinking a couple of times. After a moment, what Sam said had sunken in. “So, I'm not going to feel like I have to come here anymore?”

 

“Of course not. I would never force you to do something against your will. I'll call for you when you're safe to come, but I won't make you feel like you have to again. I was just so lonely, I needed to make sure you'd be here at least once. You held out longer than I had expected, and I couldn't remove the curse until we had touched in real life. Of course, you don't seem very keen on touching.” Sam teased. He was smiling now, as if unoffended by Castiel's lack of enthusiasm. Cas felt a small blush creep up his cheeks.

 

“Sorry. My people skills are a little rusty. Which is why I'm glad I'll have you, too.” Cas said, nodding his head. Sam smiled, nodding back.

 

“Castiel, we're going to be very good friends. A real life human.” Sam said, the last part really meant only for himself. He said it in wonder, as if he hadn't quite been able to believe before. As if humans were something magical. Cas smiled a little bit.

 

The bridge separating their two worlds, small as it was, was closed in a heartbeat. Castiel could still feel it though, in his heart. The rain splattered down on his face, reminding him again that nothing could be as beautiful as the inside of the moors, nothing. He shook his head and turned around on his heel, beginning to walk back home. There was something so rewarding about finding out that he was right; not all the fae were bad.

~~~

Castiel was, however, right in more than that. His mother was absolutely furious with him when he returned home, scolding him heavily for leaving without telling her. She turned sympathetic soon enough, conveying to him that she had simply been disappointed in him and afraid that he was not to return. She mentioned that many little boys had gone missing in the moors lately, and Castiel looked towards the ground. He knew now that those rumours could not have even a seed of truth.

 

Of course, as a punishment, his mother kept him close. For an entire month, he was unable to go and see his new friend. For an entire month, he had to daydream about what would happen when he went back again. For an entire month, there was nothing for him to do but think. And, the longing to go back was just as bad. Maybe even a little worse, now that he knew he was no longer bewitched, and what was left was truly his own.

 

Three times he'd heard the moors whisper his name. Three times he'd had to turn from his mother and growl in frustration. He thought furiously, _I can't come right now, I have duties to the mortal world,_ hoping that Sam may get the message. Of course, he received no confirmation. He wished with all of his heart he could go back.

 

Finally, the day came. His mother sent him out to play on a sunny morning, and he ran as fast as his legs would take him. As he approached the moors, his little portal opened up, allowing him to squeeze through. He wiggled through the dirt, letting a small smile appear on his face as he saw Sam there again. Sam returned the smile with a large one of his own. Both of them knew, from that moment on, that they were going to be close.

~~~

Years passed. Castiel rarely got free time, and when he did, it seemed as if there was constantly somebody watching over his shoulder. His visits to Sam were few and far between, but they were still best friends. Three years passed, and in that time, they visited each other ten times. The longest gap in between visits had been for ten months, when Castiel's brothers forced him to get an internship at a merchant's stall and he had to stay in the central kingdom.

 

Of course, it soon became apparent that a twelve-year-old Castiel was not equipped to handle social situations. Much of the time he seemed entirely oblivious to what the other people were saying, and he'd hated the place. Still, he was forced to comply. He was uncomplaining and unwavering. He gave nobody the chance to see him as anything less than a simple pawn. Because, if he let them in, it could be his downfall.

 

He'd seen it in the town. People had burned a witch at the stake; they screamed, accused her of fraternizing with the fae, and put her to death. Castiel had let a single tear slip down his face as the flames rose higher and higher, until they seemed to be licking the sky. They killed her because she _might_ have been friends with a faery. What would they do to him?

 

Of course, the day he got back, he snuck out of his window. He ran to the moors, feet carrying him as fast as they could across the hot ground. When he got there, he was panting and sweaty. He got down on his knees before the hole even began to open up, hoping that nobody would see him, and wanting to get in as quickly as possible.

 

The entrance slowly opened to reveal a smiling Sam. Castiel crawled through the hole and stood, brushing himself off yet again. For the first time, he grabbed Sam's shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. Sam froze up at first, before slowly beginning to return it. Cas let him go, his arm lingering on Sam's for a little while.

 

He had many brothers and sisters, but Sam was more his sibling than any of them.

 

“Let's go play in the creek.” Castiel suggested. Sam's head tilted to the side, curiously. As if he didn't quite understand how to take something. His wings fluffed out behind him, their shaking reminding Cas oddly of a peacock. Castiel smiled.

 

“Okay. Nobody's done that with me in a long time.” Sam said, smiling. He held out an arm for Cas and Cas looped his arm in Sam's, face thoughtful as they trekked across the soft grass towards the glistening, crystal-clear waters of the creek. Castiel knew that Sam was overjoyed to have him back. He and Dean used to play all the time, but then Dean's dad started forcing him to come with him and “protect” the moors. All Dean ever got to do was work, and Sam missed his older brother. Without Cas there, Sam had only himself and the other fae. They were nice, sure, but not nice enough for what Sam called, “intelligent conversation”.

 

Soon, Castiel could hear the water pouring down and wearing against the rocks, the waterfall spraying tiny droplets far into the air. A faint rainbow could be made out towards the edge of the mist. They approached and Castiel immediately began to walk across the rocks, careful not to trip on their slippery surfaces. He plopped down in the middle of a large one, right in front of the waterfall. Sam had informed him that this was where the mermaids and water fae liked to sit in the nighttime.

 

“So, where have you been? I was honestly a little worried that you were gone forever.” Sam said. His eyes had too much sincerity and wisdom for a twelve year old, like he'd had that situation before. Cas felt a pang in his heart. Even if it wasn't technically his fault, he knew he would have been worried as hell had it been reversed.

 

“My parents tried to force me to become a merchant. They sent me into the city to work and study under one of them.” Cas said, frowning. Actually, thinking back, seeing Sam was the only time in the last ten months he could remember actually smiling. He'd done as he was told only, no pleasure. “I couldn't possibly walk the miles here and back in the night, and if I went missing I would have been punished. I wish I could have come back.”

 

“It's okay.” Sam said, forgiving Cas easily. Forgiveness and gentleness seemed to be in Sam's nature. “Well, were there at least some good things about it?”

 

Cas nodded his head at this. He began to describe the warm smell of bread that filled the air, the women dressed in exotic ware with tales of other lands, all the books he could get a hold of. He talked about how a fiddler played music for everyone to hear and couples snuck off to kiss. He told Sam about the large wishing fountain in the square that children would go to and throw coins into, occasionally splashing each other.

 

“Like this?” Sam asked mischievously. He lifted his wings behind him and put the bottom inch of his feathers into the water before he gave a powerful pull, spraying large water drops all over Castiel. Cas nearly fell off of the rock with the gust of wind that came with them, but managed to prevail. When it was done, he tossed Sam a glare. Sam's jaw dropped open, and his face morphed into one of apology. “I'm so sorry Cas, I didn't realize my wings were that strong yet!”

 

Cas mumbled something indistinguishable under his breath, shaking his arms and hair to get rid of some of the water. Sam bit his lip and looked away, clearly guilty over his accident. Cas took his chance and dipped his hand into the water, bringing it up to splatter right across Sam's face. Sam turned back to him, surprised. Cas looked to the side and kept a neutral expression.

 

“That was sneaky.” Sam accused, playfully. They laughed together then, and Cas felt more content then he had in a long time.

 

Suddenly, their merriment was interrupted by the sound of Cas's impatient stomach. Sam turned towards the sound, eyes widening and head tilting curiously. He finally made the connection with where it had come from, and he hit his hand to his forehead. “I forgot you humans have to eat more than we do. We've been out here for a little while. Tell you what, I'm gonna go and grow some fresh fruits and vegetables, and I'll be back in five minutes.”

 

Castiel hesitated. Sam had said before that it could be dangerous for him to be alone in this place. However, he trusted that Sam wouldn't put him in danger. He nodded his head and Sam stood, stretching for a moment, hands raising high above his head. There was a satisfying crack of Sam's joints and he relaxed, seeming contented. He gave Cas one last fleeting glance before he hopped across the rocks and into the forest, disappearing.

 

Cas leaned back and closed his eyes, content with the events of the day. He was back with his friend, and he was happy. The water lapped against the rock and the sun warmed his lightly tanned skin, lulling him into an almost trance-like relaxation. He could be content to just lay here for hours....

 

Suddenly, a shadow passed over his head. His eyes snapped open, looking curiously up at the sky. All he saw was bright blue, as usual. He kept scanning they sky, looking for a passing cloud that may have blocked his sun for a moment. When he saw nothing, he began to close his eyes again.

 

A gust of wind washed over his face, accompanied with a loud _thud_ as something landed on the rock where he lay.

 

Castiel sat up, jumping as his eyes met with the large, black ones of the predator. He scampered back as far as the rock would let him, eyes glued to the other. The thing's face pulled back in a half-snarl half-sneer, and Castiel felt his heartbeat pound in his ears. Cas's eyes flickered up and down his form, trying to piece together the situation. Black, twisting horns protruding from his head, wings the same colour as Sam's, but with more black and less pattern variation. Shirtless, pale skin and short blonde hair.

 

He dropped to his hands and knees, slinking forward towards Cas with a grace Cas had never seen before. He still looked hostile, but his eyes seemed a little less angry. Cas fought the urge to throw himself into the water as the boy inched closer, until he was barely a foot away. He leaned forward and Cas held his breath, feeling himself begin to blush under the scrutinizing gaze. A single claw, black and shiny, where the fingertip should be, came up.

 

Cas flinched away and the thing recoiled, teeth baring again. Castiel corrected his mistake and sat perfectly still, looking into those black eyes as the claw slowly traced up his jugular.

 

“DEAN!” The scream pierced through the air. Dean's head whipped towards the sound and his sharpened claws fell an inch, eyes flickering to a startling green as he turned towards Sam.

 

Cas let all the tension drain from his body. Sam would protect him.

 

Sam flapped his wings as hard as he could, dropping down onto the rock. Dean took a few steps away from Cas, and Cas felt himself let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. Dean looked wildly between Sam and Cas, confusion flickering in his eyes as he attempted to put together the situation. Sam came to stand protectively in front of Cas in the mean time, wings fluffed up as he waited patiently for Dean to get it.

 

“I can't believe you.” Dean finally said, face morphing into one of disgust. “You've _literally_ let a human into the moors. How would dad react?”

 

“Why are you even here?” Sam shot back, wanting to put off that part of the conversation for as long as possible. Castiel was his only friend, and a true friend he was. Sam would no sooner have his father find out than he would tell Cas he never wanted to see him again. He needed to keep Cas, and more importantly, keep Cas safe.

 

“I have to take care of you, Sammy. I left and look at what you did! You invited a _human_ in! What would you have done if that thing had tried to hurt you?” Dean questioned, gesturing wildly towards Castiel. Castiel was feeling oddly wounded after how fascinated Dean had appeared with him earlier. Of course, he'd shown signs of aggression towards him that Sam had never dared show before, so he should have predicted this.

 

“He would never try to hurt me! Cas is my friend, Dean!” Sam yelled, shaking. Tears had started to stream down his tanned face, and his body was trembling. Cas reached forward to brush comfortingly against his leg and Sam turned around suddenly, dropping to his knees and throwing his arms around Cas. Cas froze up momentarily, overwhelmed by the seemingly strange turn of events, but soon relaxed, willing to comfort his friend. He rubbed soothing circles on Sam's back.

 

“Sammy, he's a human.” Dean defended, finally. The silence and tension in the air had grown and swollen like bread rising in an oven. The large, open skies of the moors suddenly felt a little too close. Everyone was tense and weary, waiting for somebody to make the next move.

 

“You seemed pretty fascinated with him at first too, Dean.” Sam finally said, sighing. He let go of Cas, eyes shining with hope and desperation as he turned towards his brother. “What dad said was wrong. You know it. I mean, look at him, he would hardly hurt a fly!” Sam gestured offhandedly towards Castiel as he spoke, “You know not all humans are bad. Only some of them.”

 

Dean paused, looking over both Sam and Cas again. He finally let out a loud sigh of frustration, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Sam, this isn't good. It's dangerous and bad and if dad knew, he would throw an absolute fit.”

 

Sam's face fell as Dean continued, “So that's why we're not going to tell him.”

 

Sam's eyes lit up, his face rising to look at Dean's. Castiel felt a warm flutter of his heart at the kindness shown between them, knowing that it was the most they had shown each other since their father took Dean away. Sam stood up again and bounded over, throwing his arms around Dean. Dean's wings slowly began to smooth out and settle down, relaxed by Sam's affection. Sam pulled away and he looked at his brother like he hung the moon in the sky. Castiel knew that by this secret, their bond had been fortified once more.

 

“BUT,” Dean said, looking at Sam sternly, “Dad said he was going to be gone a lot more. So, you'll have plenty of time to play with your friend while I'm with you two. I still don't entirely trust him not to find a way to hurt you. If you don't, I will tell dad, and you know what he'll do to him.”

 

Castiel felt a shiver pass through his body. He had the strangest feeling that whatever their father did to him, it would not be a pleasant experience. In fact, he had the feeling that he would no longer be experiencing anything at all. One of the ones rumoured to be dragged off into the night.

 

“Castiel, do you feel okay hanging out with Dean?” Sam prodded, not wanting to make Cas uncomfortable. Cas knew; Sam had told him the tales of how Dean was unable to play with him anymore. Cas knew how much this had hurt Sam, and how he longed for the days he and his brother would soar through the sky on open wings or splash in the waters of the creek. Cas knew that having Dean there would only make Sam all the more happy, even if it made him slightly more uncomfortable.

 

“Of course I am.” Cas said, looking up. Dean's green eyes met his blue ones and his smile faded slowly, turning into more of a scrutinizing look. Dean leaned forward again, slowly taking a step towards Castiel.

 

“Is- Is it alright if I look at you again? I've never seen a human up close before, dude.” Dean asked. Castiel hesitated, flickering back to the claw slowly sliding down his throat. He took a deep breath before nodding his head yes. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them, Dean was there.

 

Dean stood close, his body heat radiating in the small space. He crouched down close to Cas, and Cas felt his breath catch in surprise. Dean's head tilted curiously, his face inching closer and closer until they were merely inches away. The only thing Cas could think was  _green green green green green._ Of course, reflecting back on the event, he realized that this was also when he first really noticed the one small freckle on the bridge of Dean's nose. All his others were splattered along his cheeks and jaw. 

 

“Well, he doesn't look evil.” Dean said. Cas could smell his breath; like candy. Sweet. “He actually has really pretty eyes. Have you ever seen a fae with eyes this blue, Sam?” Dean asked, turning towards his brother. Sam let out a laugh, clutching at his sides as it grow and swelled and the merriment overtook his small form. Castiel smiled at seeing him so happy, but Dean looked slightly offended. “What?”

 

“You-- You have a crush on the human, Dean!” Sam laughed. Dean's cheeks turned a wonderful pink colour, like a newly budding rose. Castiel felt his own cheeks begin to heat. “Oh, oh boy! And you were saying that what I was doing was wrong! Hahaha!”

 

“Shut up, dude! I do not like the human. I was just making observations. You're always up my ass about being more scientific or whatever, so there you go. When I try, you accuse me of this.” Dean snarled, turning away. His face was burning bright with embarrassment at this point, and Castiel felt a jolt of surprise at the realization that Sam could very well be correct. Of course, Castiel wouldn't make any assumptions- A fae like that would never choose a human. Dean thinking he was pretty was nothing.

 

“I think we should go back to the discussion we were having earlier.” Castiel interrupted, trying desperately to rein in the situation. Sam had seemingly forgotten that teasing Dean when he had the power to inform their father was quite the foolish idea. “But this time, we'll include Dean.”

 

Dean turned, his face beginning to return to it's normal paleness. He sat down across from Castiel, next to Sam's feet. Sam took a seat to the left of him, and Dean smiled broadly at the younger. Dean looked at Sam like he was absolute perfection in it's purest form, and it made Cas smile. This Dean was how Sam described him before their father enrolled him in the moor's protections. This Dean was a friend.

 

“You need to cut your freaking hair.” Dean teased, reaching over to tossle it. Sam bared his fangs and flinched, but he didn't really look like he was angry. In fact, on the contrary, he looked happy as could be.

 

“So, Dean, how old are you?” Castiel questioned, curiosity burning. Cas knew that Sam was a year younger than him and Dean was his older brother, so perhaps....?

 

“I'm thirteen right now. I'll be fourteen in eight months, though.” Dean said, sitting up a little bit taller in pride. Castiel smiled, nodding his head. Dean was about a year older than him, which meant that the three of them together would line up years in a row. Castiel didn't know very much about social interaction, but what he did know, was that that was a good thing. They could make this modge-podge, inter-species friendship work.

 

He smiled. “I'm twelve.”

~~~

The next time Castiel visited, he came bearing gifts.

 

He had spotted in the city one day, amongst the broken trinkets and soft cloths, the ratty cover of a book. He'd shyly crept forward, knowing that his allowance he'd been saving was finally enough for him to get something of the sort. Of all the things he missed about living in the city, the library was the thing he missed the most.

 

The lovely books, the scent of old pages as he turned them, eyes eagerly scanning the lines and putting together words. The feeling of the leather binding on his fingers, held there possessively. The way he never worried about the time he had left while he was there, and yet always managed to leave before he got in trouble for being gone too long. Books were entire worlds full of information and adventure that he could get lost in.

 

This one was like any other; unique in it's own ways. It was covered in a heavy layer of graying dust that Cas had seen on the books on the taller shelves. Castiel picked it up carefully, barely managing to make out the swirling of green and blue colours on the cover. He gently blew on it, watching as the dust swirled off in the light of the town. He smiled as he turned the book back towards him, seeing a waterfall surrounded by greenery on the cover. It looked suspiciously like the one in the moors.

 

In large letters, across the cover, it read, _“Secrets Of the Fae; Everything Known About These Dangerous and Mysterious Creatures”_. Castiel gasped, his mind immediately flashing to his friends. The book may be riddled with inaccuracies, but it would still be useful for him to find out as much as he could. He could later ask Sam and Dean what was true and what was false.

 

He clutched the book to his chest, carrying it up to the man running the small resale stand. He raised his eyebrows at Castiel, looking back and forth between his selection and his money. He gave a small chuckle as he took the coins and handed the book to Cas. “You're afraid of the fae, aren't you? Well, this book will tell you everything you need to know to be a big, strong, warrior and protect yourself. Run along, now.”

 

Castiel didn't correct him, merely clutching the book closer to his chest. It was the first possession he'd ever had all to himself. His brothers spent all of their allowance on candy or jerky, he'd been saving up for a book for a long time. He'd earned this through extra chores and self-discipline, and it felt like something precious.

 

He went home and devoured it, eagerly absorbing the information offered by the worn, yellowed pages.

 

From the book, he had discovered many things about the fae. He'd found out that there were over 400 documented kinds, that some of them still kept peace with man, and that what Dean and Sam were were the most powerful kinds of fae. He learned that there were more moors across the continent, and that fae were (while not rumoured to have taken people) still feared in other places. He learned that iron burns them, and that almost no species of fae could resist a tall glass of milk or a cup full of honey.

 

So, as he next heard the call, he stopped to grab a large container of honey and a bottle of milk. It had been three months since his last trip to the moors, but Cas dared not go without feeling the pull of Sam telling him that things were safe. Of course, it seemed a little different this time, as if two strings were tied to his soul, tugging.

 

Castiel hurried along the path, ducking down to his knees to scoot through the undergrowth. He pushed the offerings in before him, squeezing through himself. He was met by Sam's pleased smile and a warm hug that felt like being welcomed home. He frowned, his eyes scanning the area.

 

“What's wrong?” Sam asked, eyebrows furrowing. Castiel frowned.

 

“Where is Dean?” He asked, flashing back to the last time he had talked to the two of them. Hadn't part of their agreement been that Dean would now be joining their time together? Castiel scanned the bright green of the forest again, noting that the golden sun's rays were scattered haphazardly across the ground. He did not, however, see Dean.

 

Suddenly, the tree directly above him rustled. He whipped his head up as something large dropped down, accompanied by a loud whoosh of air. He closed his eyes against the feeling, letting a small smile stretch over his lips. As he opened them up again, Dean turned around. His wings were spread out and he was leering at Castiel over them.

 

“Show off.” Sam mumbled, smiling. Dean glared at him and his wings puffed up a little bit at the comment, but he didn't retaliate. He simply turned around, eyeing Cas up and down. Cas didn't miss that his eyes hesitated over the small pitcher and jar in his hand, and he offered them up willingly. Sam reached out and Dean's hand landed on his arm as he regarded them warily.

 

“What are those?” He questioned, reaching out to tentatively grab the jar. He immediately turned it upside-down, eyes widening when the honey didn't spill out. Castiel snorted, and Dean glared again. “Are you gonna explain it now or not?”

 

“It's honey. I read in a book that you guys would love it. I, uh, also brought some milk.” Castiel mumbled, handing Dean the pitcher. Dean immediately dropped the jar and reached for the pitcher. The small, glass container would have shattered on the ground if Sam hadn't quickly caught it mid-air, green tendrils of magic flying from his fingertips to safely cradle the container.

 

“Smooth move.” Sam said smugly, dropping the jar back into Castiel's waiting hands. Cas ignored the statement, his hands working gracefully to open the small container. While he did, Dean tentatively sniffed at the milk, eyebrows raising at the scent. He passed it to Sammy, who did the same. Once the pitcher was firmly in Sam's hands, Castiel handed Dean the jar.

 

“You can dip your finger in to taste it, if you would like.” Cas offered. Dean slowly did so, dipping a finger in and pulling it out, covered in the sticky substance. He lifted it to his lips and very slowly let it fall in, as if still worried that there might be something wrong with it.

 

Cas watched as Dean's face lit up brighter than the sunny moors ever could, joy and surprise in his eyes. He felt himself smile again, and his own face heat up with pride that he had done a good job. Sam let out a hum of satisfaction from beside them, and when Cas looked over, a milk mustache graced his upper lip.

 

“Sam.” Dean said, smiling, “I'm so proud you finally got facial hair. I'll have to teach my little brother how to shave!”

 

Sam looked at Dean in utter confusion. Dean rolled his eyes and conjoured up a mirror with the wave of his hands, letting it come to rest in front of Sam's face. Sam eagerly peered into the glass before he yelped in surprise, his tongue darting out to try and clean up the stray milk. Dean threw back his head and let out a wonderful laugh, joy radiating down in his bones.

 

The moment was not one Cas would soon forget. When he really looks back, he can pinpoint this as the exact moment he stopped experiencing the nagging worry that Dean would hurt him. Sure, Dean had stopped being Sam's brother for a little while. Sure, all he'd been doing was mindlessly protecting him. But Dean had been forced to by someone that he now knew (and probably had known) was wrong. Dean wouldn't hurt Sam.

 

And, Dean wouldn't hurt Castiel.

 

He couldn't stay long, but he smiled at the boys as he left, sending a small wave over his shoulder.

 

“Wait, Cas!” Dean asked. Castiel stopped. Dean looked a little awkward and unprepared as he turned on his heels, open to questioning. He blushed and mumbled, “Would you want to come back at night sometime? I know you'd miss out on sleep and stuff, but dad's gonna be gone in a month and it's really pretty here.”

 

Castiel smiled. “Of course. See you later, Dean!”

~~~

This promise, like the wealth of Dean's, was not soon forgotten. A month and a day after his last visit, Castiel lay sleeping in his bed. His little sister Anna shared a room with him, but she was far too young to start telling their parents when he misbehaved. He tossed and turned in his bed, not quite done with the day's excitement. They'd gone to the town again that day, to do some trading and buying.

 

Suddenly, as he tossed, covered in his warm cocoon of blankets, a brushing began at the edge of his mind. He sat straight up, eyes widening as he realized what it was. He quickly grabbed his coat, slipping it on. He stepped lightly on his way as he crept across the creaky floor, praying he didn't rouse one of the other members of the household. As he crept out, he grabbed the pitcher of milk from the table. It was halfway empty, but Sam had loved it last time, and he wanted to surprise him.

 

The journey to the moors seemed all the more dangerous at night. Surely, if he were to be spotted, one would assume his bewitching. He knew that in the town square, they burned people for having relations with the fae. He didn't want to condemn himself to that fate. Even if that was an extreme situation, there would be no way from then on out that he could get close enough to the moors to see his friends again.

 

He crept through the darkness, tip-toeing across the dirt path. Several times he stumbled in the dark, but quickly recovered. Castiel was agile now, not as clumsy as he had been earlier in his life. He eventually came to stand directly in front of the moors, waiting patiently for the thorns to peel back for him.

 

As soon as the opening was wide enough, he crawled through the tunnel.

 

The world was _grey._ Not in a dull or boring way, more in the sense that the colours seemed to be sleeping. Everything was varying shades of grey, like a high-definition black and white movie. He looked around at the scenery, enjoying the change from the usual bright green. Sure, it was vibrant and beautiful, but so was this, in it's own way.

 

There were little purple lights throughout the forest, floating. They offered the only speckling of colour on the landscape. Cas smiled as he observed the sights, knowing he was one of the few humans to see it. Soon, though, his enjoyment turned into a cold kind of curiosity. He didn't see his friends anywhere.

 

He turned around, seeing that the hole had closed. Bending down, he set the pitcher on the damp grass. His eyes scanned the trees as he walked forward, following his impulses and looking eagerly for Sam and Dean. He knew they were here somewhere, but he just couldn't seem to find where.

 

Suddenly, the bushes to his left gave off a rustle. He turned quickly, eyes narrowing at the foreign sound. It took only a moment longer before Dean sprang from the bushes, wings flaring up and horns shining in the low light. Castiel managed to stay entirely still through the surprise, his face composed into a careful mask. When Dean saw that he had failed at scaring him he let his body slump, pouting.

 

“Castiel!” Came from behind. He turned quickly to see Sam bounding out from behind a tree, no doubt having just come from their meadow. Cas smiled, walking forward and quickly wrapping Sam in a warm hug. Sam returned the sentiment, wiggling excitedly as he squeezed his friend. Castiel pulled away, curiosity burning to know what Sam was so excited about. “I'm so happy you get to see the moors in the night time. The other fae are all out tonight, and we talked them into not telling father. They're throwing mud by the river.”

 

“What, I don't get a hug?” Dean grumbled. Castiel rolled his eyes and ignored the comment.

 

“I would love to go and see them, Sam.” He said, nodding. He heard a fluffing of feathers behind him, and Sam busted out in laughter. Castiel fought the curiosity to turn around and see what he was laughing over, staring straight ahead. Sam eventually got a hold of himself and stopped, breathlessly smiling.

 

“I'm sorry, Dean just looked so offended that you ignored him. It was priceless.” Sam choked out, smiling. Castiel couldn't help but smile back, a little amused by the idea of what Dean must have looked like. He heard another ruffle of feathers and Sam let out another laugh, shorter this time. He said, teasingly, “You should really just go ahead and hug him, before he gets upset.”

 

Castiel turned, holding his arms open for a hug. Dean crossed his arms over his chest indignantly, eyes closed. Castiel waited several moments for him to respond, standing in silence. Once he realized Dean wasn't going to get over his pride, he let out a sigh and turned back towards Sam. As soon as he was relaxed, hands wrapped around his stomach and pulled him back against a warm chest. He jumped, letting out a small sound of surprise.

 

“I knew I could getchya.” Dean said in his ear. Castiel began to squirm, Dean's hands tickling his sides. Dean growled possessively and pulled him closer, his hands shifting on Cas's sides and causing a small laugh to escape from Cas's mouth. Dean chuckled and Cas huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Sam was grinning from ear to ear, looking just like a kid on Christmas morning.

 

“I knew you liked the human.” He accused teasingly. Dean stiffened up and released Cas from his grip. Castiel could practically feel the embarrassment and denial radiating off of him in waves as he opened his mouth several times before finally sealing it closed, refusing to answer. “Don't be ashamed of your feelings, Dean!”

 

“Stop that!” Dean snapped at Sam's teasing. Cas turned to Sam quickly, unsure of how he would react. Sam didn't look all that bothered by it, and he grabbed Cas's arm, tugging him towards the creek. Castiel let himself be pulled, feeling a slight blush rising on his cheeks. Dean's eyes were one of the only things that weren't either grey or purple. He loved the ever vibrant green.

 

As soon as they broke through the trees, (Dean stomping along behind them and mumbling about Sam being annoying) Castiel felt his breath catch in his throat. Skimming over the water, hair whipping out in all directions behind them, were the water sprites. They painted the night with glowing colours, giggling gleefully as they danced across the surface. In the distance there were other creatures, some that glowed and some that blended with the grey. Castiel saw gnomes and pygmies and sprites.

 

“Whoa.” He breathed out. Dean stepped up beside him and Sam, and Castiel felt the light sweep of feathers across his left hip. He turned towards it, finding that one of Dean's wings had curved a little at the bottom to brush up against it. His forehead wrinkled in confusion, and he opened his mouth to ask what that was all about.

 

“COME ON!” Sam enthused, pulling him forward before he would get the chance. He stumbled over his own two feet for a moment before steadying himself. Sam tugged at his arm again and he stepped forward with him this time, his question slowly slipping from his mind. A cool wave of something washed over his feet and he looked down in panic, seeing that he had somehow stumbled into the water. A nearby sprite giggled at his reaction, splashing him playfully.

 

Castiel smiled at her, waving. She waved back before blushing deep, glowing red and darting immediately away. Cas felt the disturbance as Dean stepped into the water too, the lillypads briefly bobbing up and down in the otherwise tranquil pool. Just a couple more steps and they'd be into the current, surrounded by the fae.

 

The night seemed peaceful. The fae flitted around or dragged their feet through the mud. The air was filled with laughter and love from all sides.

 

Suddenly, Castiel felt something hit his chest. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but he looked down to see a splattering of brown across his shirt. Severally of the faeries started chuckling, a few falling off of rocks or clutching their sides. Castiel frowned at the stain, his brow wrinkling as he wondered what he had done to deserve it.

 

Another chunk of mud flew through the air, tossed by Dean. Castiel turned in confusion as a gnome went flying off of his perch and into the bog full of mud, getting coated in it. Cas's head tilted to the side.

 

“He was the one who threw it. We have mud fights for fun sometimes and I've learned to tell where they come from.” Dean said, smiling. Castiel only felt more confused. It must have shown on his face, for Dean gaped and said, “What, you and your brothers don't have mud fights with the other kids in the neighborhood?”

 

“We live on a farm.” Castiel said, flatly. Dean stared at him, blankly. “And how could throwing mud at each other be considered even remotely fun?”

 

“Oh, shit.” Dean said, looking over Castiel's shoulder. “Looks like you're about to find out.”

 

Castiel looked over his shoulder in shock. There, he saw seven angry-looking gnomes standing on a broken log, mud caked on their hands. They had dark brown lines on their faces streaked like war paint. One of them reeled up his hands and threw a lob directly towards Castiel's face.

 

It would have hit him square in the forehead if Dean's wing hadn't swooped out to protect both of them.

 

Dean growled. “Great, it'll be fun washing that out of my feathers later. Hey, let's take cover before they do much more damage, okay?”

 

Castiel allowed himself to be lead a couple of paces to the right, where he quickly switched to standing behind a large bolder. It was thin and just a foot shorter than either of them, making it the perfect place to crouch behind. They ducked away from the flinging dirt, smiling at each other. Castiel felt the warmth coming from Dean as Dean leaned down and dug his fingers into the soft mud, creating a decent sized ball.

 

He snuck around the corner and hurled the ball at the attackers, quickly tucking his body back to avoid getting hit in the face with one of the lobs. He turned to Cas and gave him a dashing smile before quickly repeating the process, this time successfully knocking one of them off of the log. Castiel continued to watch Dean work in fascination, eyes following his movements as he lobbed mud ball after mud ball over the rock.

 

Finally, Dean turned back to Castiel. He looked a little annoyed, judging by the slightly rumpled nature of his feathers. Castiel's eyes scanned up and down his body. “Cas, are you just gonna sit there, or are you gonna help?”

 

Castiel quickly composed himself, reaching down to grab a lump of mud. It set unevenly in his lithe hands, and he glanced uncertainly at the top of the rock. Finally, gathering his courage, he popped up and threw the mud towards the opposing team.

 

No sooner had the mud left his hand then a large chunk hit Castiel directly in the face. His eyes widened and he reared back, stumbling. He fell butt-down onto a big pile of mud, which immediately soaked through his slacks. He looked up at Dean helplessly. Dean, who looked like he was trying to hold in a loud bout of laughter. Dean's face was red as his shoulder trembled, hands covering his lips.

 

Several of the fae laughed, and Sam, (who had been considered by the dwarves as uninvolved in the fight and therefore was not a target) started laughing. He laughed so hard that he fell off of the log his was sitting in and his knees landed in the cool spring water. Dean turned sharply towards him, getting control of himself. Castiel stood up again just in time to see a large glob of mud hit Sam's face.

 

All the fae were laughing now. Dean seemed smug, a small smile tugging at his lips. There was no doubt his magic had been the source of the mud. Castiel felt grateful.

 

The rest of the night was spent with the three boys lobbing mud at each other, smiling and laughing. When it was finally time for Castiel to go home, Dean and Sam used magic to clean his clothes. He thanked both of them for the wonderful evening, nodding his head and letting his eyes scan the beautiful night moors one last time.

 

The wall of thorns closed behind him, and he thought about how everything had changed. Sam by himself was amazing-- He was Castiel's best friend. But he was happy that Dean was here now.

 

There was a warm blooming inside Cas's chest whenever he so much as thought of him.

~~~

Wind always seemed like a friend to Castiel. It had been there for him when other things were not. There were many inconsistencies in life, and Castiel knew that wind was not one of them. The wind had always been there when he needed something.

 

Of course, he had never before known the wind as personally as he would come to this day.

 

Castiel had been milking the cow, filling up the bucket as he slowly pulled on the cow's utters. This had become his chore last month, as he was “grown up” and “mature” now. He was thirteen, and his chores had increased along with the decrease in how much free time he had. Mother had told him that it would be good for him. This would make his muscles develop, and girls would find him more attractive. She said that he was already getting tall enough to make the girls swoon, and that he could attract a beautiful wife.

 

Castiel wasn't all that attracted to anyone. He didn't see the girls in tight dresses and stop and stare like his brothers did. He didn't pretend to trip to glance up women's skirts. He didn't chase around girls his age and harass them like the other boys. He honestly couldn't see how they could find them attractive; they didn't _know_ anything about them. Castiel thought that he would have to love a person before he even considered them sexually.

 

So, when the small brushes started against his mind, he dropped everything. His brothers were, for once, not around. He'd been called three times in the last month and every one been unable to go. He didn't honestly care that he was going to get scolded for not finishing his chores. The cow was milked enough that she would not be in pain, and he needed to see Dean and Sam again.

 

He ran along the familiar path. He ducked down so that his head would be covered by the growing wheat this time of year. He smiled as he approached the moors and they opened, just enough for him and him alone to crawl through. He wondered briefly if they would welcome him without Sam and Dean's help, but shook off the thought.

 

As soon as he was through the hole, he was attacked by an overeager Sam. He smiled and hugged him back, nuzzling against his friend's overly warm body. Sam laughed at the action and playfully shoved him off, leaving Castiel offended. Dean laughed at his face and playfully glared at his younger sibling.

 

“Here Cas, I'll give you a _real_ hug.” Dean teased, grabbing Cas and pulling him into his arms. Cas froze up entirely, feeling his face heat. Dean was warm and smelled like apple cider and cinnamon and leather and shotgun powder. He felt the warmth from Dean's body radiating against his own, and couldn't help that he didn't understand how to react. He noticed things in this hug that he'd never noticed before, and goosebumps rose on his skin. This was the closest he'd been with anybody for this long.

 

“I thought all hugs were 'real' hugs.” he finally managed to say. Dean chuckled, and the sound vibrated against Castiel's chest. His chest which, if he wasn't mistaken, was beginning to swell with warm, happy emotion. Emotion that was foreign to him entirely.

 

He smiled as Dean pulled away, but he missed the warmth. Sam was watching with an eyebrow raised. Every single time Dean and Cas did anything even slightly sweet, he made some off the wall suggestion that Castiel rarely ever got. All he knew was that some of them were implying Dean had a crush, and all of them made Dean turn a beautiful shade of bright pink.

 

“Are you two gonna makeout now or are we gonna do what we were talking about?” Sam questioned. Dean blushed, as he always seemed to, and Castiel looked towards the trees. Their bright red and orange colours distracted him from Sam's teasing.

 

“Build a leaf pile and jump in?” Dean questioned. Sam smiled broadly.

 

“I've never done that before. Is it fun?” Castiel asked, wrinkling his nose. He thought it sounded slightly unsanitary and itchy. Dean smiled, nodding his head.

 

“It's even more fun when you can make a pile as big as me and Sam can.” Dean said mischeviously. “Just you wait Cas, you're gonna have the time of your life.”

 

Castiel watched as the two brothers began to scurry around, finding piles of leaves. He didn't bother to ask what they were doing, merely sitting down on a fallen stump and admiring the foliage growing this time of year. The sky was blue and the air was crisp, but not quite to the point of chill. Autumn was Castiel's favourite time of the year.

 

Of course, in the never ending surprises of the moors, Castiel noted that not all the trees were losing their leaves. It seemed as though only this small section was affected by autumn coming, as if it had been controlled. He figured that they would need the slightly warmer temperatures to grow food year round, for the fae to eat. He had no doubt Dean and Sam were responsible even for this small autumn patch.

 

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind was heard. Castiel looked up sharply, eyes finding Sam and Dean.

 

Dean stood up straight, using large swoops of his wings to bring leaves high up into the air. Sam would then give his own beat of wings, trapping the leaves inbetween them. The leaves fell uselessly onto the grass, into a rapidly growing pile that they circled like hawks. It wasn't all that long before the pile was as large as Castiel himself, and he raised his eyebrows.

 

“This is significantly more impressive then I thought it would be.” He said, bluntly. Sam and Dean were both panting, and Dean ran over to grab Castiel's hand. Cas felt his legs stumble as Dean pulled him along eagerly, working furiously to get to their pile. Castiel looked dumbly at Dean's hand in his, starting to feel the warmth begin to spread through his chest again.

 

The feeling was scary. It was stronger than what he felt for Sam, it went deeper. He knew, however, that this was just the starting bud in the garden. He knew that, if left alone, this would grow. He didn't know what it would grow into or what it would mean, but even a fool could recognize the power of it. Cas knew that it was only going to get worse and worse and more and more until it entirely filled him up with its being, and he would get like this, just from looking into Dean's eyes. Just from thinking about his laugh, or the way that he always put his little brother in front of himself. How he could acknowledge that he had flaws.

 

Castiel thought that, as scary as that should be, he was okay with it.

 

Dean looked at him mischeviously. His horns gleamed in the light of midday. “You ready to jump in, Cas?”

 

“As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose.” Cas mumbled. Suddenly, his arm was jerked as Dean pulled him into the pile of leaves, causing them to scatter into the air.

 

Sam jumped in a little after them, but still managed to get a fair amount of leaves. Of course, in his joy and playfulness, he missed the position which Dean and Cas found themselves in.

 

Dean had somehow twisted in air, landing on his back. His right hand was pinned out above his head, his and Cas's fingers still intertwined amongst the leaves. Castiel had managed to land right on top of Dean, their chests pressed up together.

 

Castiel felt like he couldn't breathe. Dean's eyes were staring up at his, wide and green. As the moment stretched out his cheeks slowly began to adapt that gorgeous pink colour that Castiel had come to love, and his body subtly heated up with the blush. Cas could taste Dean's breath, and it tasted like honey and candy. Castiel felt Dean's hand tighten around his in the leaves as Dean stared in wonder, his eyes flickering from Castiel's down to Cas's lips and then back again. Cas felt his lips part in anticipation.

 

“WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?” Sam exclaimed. Dean suddenly tensed up, looking from Cas over to Sam. Cas found himself quickly pushed off of Dean, and into the pile of leaves. Castiel landed hard, leaves scattering up and managing to somewhat cushion his blow. When he sat up, he saw Dean violently blushing and Sam grinning like a fool.

 

“Dude, we fell that way! I swear, you know dad would never be okay with anything like that!” Dean exclaimed. Sam's face fell, and his expression eventually turned to sour. Castiel looked between them for a few moments, curiosity burning and itching underneathe his skin. He longed to know what they were saying in that look.

 

“Dean, you shouldn't care about what dad has to say. You're your own person, and I know that you know Cas isn't something that's going to hurt you.” Sam announced. Dean flinched, shaking his head a few times. Castiel stopped paying attention at this point, more interested in a leaf floating around in the air. It danced freely across the ground, carried by a small breeze that slipped between the trees. Castiel was reminded that Dean and Sam knew what it felt like to be weightless, like the leaf.

 

“Dean? Sam?” He asked. He interrupted Sam mid-sentence, but both of the two stopped talking. They seemed to be as eager as Castiel was to drop their current conversation. Dean cleared his throat. “What's it like to fly?”

 

Dean paused. His head tilted to the side. Sam's brow furrowed as if he was concentrating on something and found it very difficult. Both of them looked, even after a stretch of thoughtful silence, as if the answer could not be found. They looked at each other, to see if the other had come to a conclusion. Eventually, they just looked back to Castiel and Dean loosely shrugged his shoulders.

 

“It's really indescribable. I love being up there. I wish you could know for yourself.” Sam said, sounding sad. Castiel waved it off. He would love to know what it was like, but some things simply could not be.

 

“I wish I could, too.” Castiel admitted, smiling. “Thank you for your care, Sam.”

 

Suddenly, Sam perked up. His eyes burned bright with the passionate flame of a new idea, and he turned to Dean eagerly, hair flopping around his ears with the movement. “Hey. I know I'm too young and my wings wouldn't be powerful enough to life Cas, but hasn't dad been forcing you into training exercises? Do you think you would be able to lift Cas up so we all could fly together?”

 

Dean's eyebrows rose. “You want me to pick him up and fly him around? How do you know you couldn't pick him up? You're pretty strong, Sammy.”

 

“Yeah, but you're older, more experienced, taller, and you have more muscle. It would be a lot safer for Cas to fly with you. Could you just hold him against your chest or something? I would fly behind you guys in case something did happen.” Sam said. If Castiel wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. Dean twitched at the mention of safety, eyes darting back to Castiel before he let out a defeated sigh.

 

“Alright, I'll do it. But only so Cas can know what it's like.” Dean grumbled. Sam smiled widely at him, bouncing over to Cas and grabbing his hand. He pulled him up and practically shoved him into Dean's arms, Cas nearly tripping from the force. Dean's hand landed on his shoulder, allowing him time to steady himself. Cas was expecting Dean to pull away from the touch as soon as he was stable, but Dean didn't.

 

Sam gazed at them expectantly. “Well, are you two gonna try and work this out?”

 

“Like, now?” Dean asked, dumbly. Sam very slowly nodded his head, eyes widening and lips drawing in as if frustrated by how slowly Dean was comprehending this.

 

Dean awkwardly placed his hands on Castiel's hips, using the leverage to drag Cas back against his chest. Castiel froze up once there, and Dean used the opportunity to wrap his arms firmly around Castiel's torso. One across his chest and the other across his stomach, ending with Dean's hand placed on his hip. Dean's chin at this point lay rested against the top of his head.

 

“Okay Sam, does he look secure?” Dean questions, his wings nervously fluttering out. Castiel couldn't quite put his finger on the reason he was having trouble breathing properly, pushed up against Dean like this. His whole body felt warm, and the warmth that had begun to grow in his chest earlier had only increased.

 

“Yeah. Just make sure to hold him tight, so that he doesn't end up falling.” Sam said, stepping back. Castiel felt his cheeks colour pink at the way Sam looked at him and Dean; like they had just kissed. Like their hands had been brushing all night long and they just finally worked up the courage to make the grip firm.

 

“Alright.” Dean mumbled. Castiel felt a shift in the air as Dean's wings rose high over his head, preparing to loft them into the sky.

 

Castiel felt his feet lift from the ground, and he stopped breathing. They fell a couple of inches, and Dean's grip tightened on Cas before his wings flapped again, lifting them even higher. Castiel's hand tightened on Dean's arm and he gritted his teeth, excitement and adrenaline flowing through his veins like blood. He closed his eyes and pushed his head up against Dean's jaw, not wanting to watch as they rose further and further away from the safety of the ground.

 

After about thirty seconds, the choppy beating of wings and rough up and down of rising into the air stopped. Dean's body shifted, leaning forward. His wings spread out on either side and a breeze blew softly as he began to glide. Castiel opened his eyes now, the first thing he saw being the whisked up white of a cloud as Dean flew into it. The moisture tickled his face as it collected in small dewdrops.

 

The white broke and Castiel looked down, eyes widening. Green lands stretched out all around him, rocks and moss rising into the air as pillars. Waterfalls were below them, trees stretching up to touch the sky and not coming half as close as they were. The waters were crystal clear and the air was light and refreshing. Cas felt a smile stretch across his face as he looked, heart lifting into the air almost as high as he was.

 

Suddenly,everything shifted. Dean's wings came down and wrapped around both of them. They began to drop like a stone in air, and Castiel felt a moment of panic spike his heart rate. Dean twisted and his wings cut through the air again, stopping their descent. Castiel gasped loudly as the sky was exposed to him, and Dean chuckled at his response. They were flying upside-down.

 

Castiel gazed at the sky for a few moments, taking in the beauty. A subtle shift from Dean, and Dean's mouth was by his ear.

 

“Hey, turn around. It's a lot easier to fly this way and you should really see the meadows.” He mumbled. Castiel very slowly began to turn, finally coming face-to-face with Dean. Dean smiled, eyes lighting up at the sight of Castiel's awed expression.

 

“DEAN!” Sam shouted. Dean's head turned sharply forward to see two pillars, barely enough space in between for half of Dean's wing span. Dean's arms wrapped around Castiel securely as he turned, wings slicing through the air between the rocks. Castiel's arms flew around Dean's neck and held tight. Eventually, Dean turned back again, laughing jovially.

 

“You don't have to worry, Cas. I've got you.” He said. Castiel's head lifted off of Dean's chest to look at him again, heart still pounding from the turn.

 

And, for once in his life, he found himself truly believing in a promise.

~~~

A year had passed, and Castiel had spent more time than ever in the moors. Sam and Dean had become more comfortable having him there, and more assured that they were not to be found. They had grown all, fourteen and fifteen Cas and Dean, and Sam's thirteenth birthday four months before.

 

Castiel had decided that it was his time to show Dean and Sam something from the human world. They had taught and shown and given him so much of themselves, there had to be a way for him to repay them.

 

So, he went into the moors that day with a plan on what to do.

 

“Castiel!” Dean shouted, running towards him. He scooped Castiel up in a big bear hug, swinging him around a little bit before setting him back down. Castiel scoffed, standing awkwardly as Dean set him down. Dean and Cas shared a long look before Dean cleared his throat and looked away, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “It's been too long. I missed you.”

 

“I missed you, too.” Castiel said, blinking. He still didn't quite understand why Dean always got so embarrassed around him. Did the warm feeling Cas always felt affect him, too? Why would Dean find that embarrassing? Sam always suggested that this was the case.

 

“So, Cas, do you want to go flying today?” Sam asked. Castiel hesitated. He loved the feeling of being lifted into the air, loved the kinship with the wind, but he had to stick to his original plan. Dean and Sam meant a lot to him, and they should be payed back for all that they had taught him of their culture. No, today would not be for taking to the skies, but showing Sam and Dean things that he had known all his life.

 

“Actually, I have something else in mind. It would be the least I could do in light of all you two have taught me,” Sam and Dean shared a glance, confusion flickering between them, “To show you how things work in the human world. Would you be comfortable with leaving the moors?”

 

“For you? Yes. We trust you, Cas.” Sam said, immediately. Castiel smiled a little bit, and they both turned to Dean. Dean looked uneasy, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he looked at the ground. His arms were crossed over his chest as if uncomfortable by the mere suggestion. His wings fluffed up and he gave a deep sigh, letting the tension drain from his body. The silence seemed to stretch on.

 

“ONLY because it's Cas. I wouldn't trust anyone else.” He mumbled. Castiel tried to stifle the burst of pride that bloomed in his chest, that these powerful creatures would trust him. “And I don't want to be out after dark.”

 

So, after walking a mile behind Castiel, they came to rest in front of a shorter portion of the wall. Castiel knew that this was where the small, abandoned house would be. He gestured for Sam to work his magic and Sam stepped forward, waving his hands. The wall slowly opened into a doorway, just tall enough for the top of Dean's horns and just wide enough for Sam's moose antlers. Castiel, of course, being around the same height and lacking significant girth, fit in just fine.

 

The house was small and quaint. It had new cobwebs in the rafters, and the roof was growing at least three different kinds of moss. It was small and warm, and the door slowly swung open as Castiel pushed it. He heard Sam give a gasp behind him, and knew that he was excited to finally get to see a human dwelling.

 

Castiel stepped aside and Sam immediately ran in, spinning in circles to take in the sights. He looked at the paintings and the fireplace, collapsing onto the old couch. Castiel watched as Dean tentatively stepped inside, smiling as he walked to join his little brother on the sofa.

 

“Dean?” He asked. Dean turned towards him. “Would you like to see the kitchen?”

 

Dean's eyes lit up. Castiel grabbed his hand, (ignoring the whistle that came from Sam) and pulled him out of the living room. There was a small, four-person dining table and a counter, complete with a brick “oven” and dry ingredients Castiel had taken over. Stored right beside the wash bin was a big bucket of apples and cinnamon, some milk, and honey. All had been brought this morning, by Castiel himself.

 

“Humans use basic ingredients to make other things.” He said, gesturing towards the counter. Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“No shit Sherlock, we make stuff, too. I mean, we don't have any of this,” Dean picked up a little bit of flour in his hands and his eyes widened at the smooth texture, “But we use magic.”

 

“Using magic is not the same as actually baking.” Castiel defended. “If you take the time to bake it, things turn out better. Granted it is less convenient, but overall I think you'll find the taste worth it.”

 

Sam had now caught up with them, and was tagging along behind. His steps echoed with theirs in the empty house, clacking against the wooden floorboards. Occasionally, someone would step in the wrong spot and there would be a loud creak. “Of course, first I want to show you the bedrooms.”

 

He stepped out of the kitchen then, headed towards the stairs. His legs worked furiously as he ascended, not wanting to put weight on any of them for too long. Sam and Dean followed his lead, neither on lingering on the aged wood as they went. Castiel took a right and ended up inside the smallest bedroom, where a bookshelf and a bed lay side by side. A small dresser was wedged against the wall, and a window let in light. Sam's eyes lit up, and he ran to the bed, landing on it heavily.

 

“This is amazing. You humans seriously sleep here? All we get is a stupid tree.” He said, turning over on his side. His eyes lit up when he noticed the book shelf, which was full of faerie tales and home remedies and knowledge of plants. On top sat Castiel's own book, as he had taken it here some time ago. This little house felt like his own, so it would only be suitable for his only real possession to be here.

 

“You can read whatever you'd like.” Castiel told Sam. Sam nodded his head, smiling.

 

“I feel like I belong here. The three of us, as a family.” He said, sitting up. He grabbed a book off of the shelf and ran a hand over it, lovingly. Castiel knew then that it was a good idea to take them here, because Sam would soon return. “Don't you feel the same way?”

 

“You are a brother to me, Sam.” Castiel said, solemnly. The love he felt for Sam was intense and true. However, he couldn't bring himself to say the same of Dean. Dean's love was something deeper and more complex than that of a brother, and Castiel had been finding out more and more what that meant. He'd been discovering more and more that this was a good thing. “But the house isn't big enough for the three of us. There are only two bedrooms.”

 

“So? You and Dean could share a bed. I'm young, but I'm not blind.” Sam said, teasingly. For once, Castiel felt his own face heat up with the teasing. It had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to be embarrassed by something Sam said. He couldn't help but let his mind wander to that possibility; Dean's arms wrapped firmly around him as he woke up, sun shining in the early morning. Feathers tickling his nose until his eyes snapped open if he slept in for too long.

 

He chased the thoughts away. He wasn't about to have them in the presence of their subject.

 

“Come on, I have something else to show you.” Castiel mumbled. He turned and left the room. Sam stayed glued firmly to the bed, the book propped open on top of his lap. Castiel couldn't bring himself to care.

 

He lead Dean into the spacious second room. There was a closet in this one, and a small stand where someone could look themselves in the looking glass. Castiel passed them up, and dropped to his knees in front of the chest at the foot of the bed. While Dean was busy looking at the elaborate wooden headboard, he reached underneath the bed and pulled out a brass key. He slid the key in and the chest popped open, groaning as he pushed up the lid. He heard a soft thump beside him as Dean's trance broke, and he dropped to his knees as he became curious as to what Cas was doing.

 

“This chest is filled with letters from the old couple that lived here, a long time ago.” Castiel mumbled, taking out an envelope. Dean's hands ghosted over his own and he froze, looking up. Dean's fingers closed around the envelope and took it from his hands, not breaking eye contact the entire time. He eventually looked down, and the tension faded away as he pulled out one of the letters. Castiel wondered when his heartbeat would slow.

 

Dean snickered. “These are so cheesy. Listen to this, _Every time we touch I know that this is forever. I never wished to part from you my Love. You are the stars in my sky!_ ” Dean read, pretending to faint. Castiel felt his face heat up.

 

“I think it's sweet. Love does that to people. Granted that was probably over exaggerating a bit, there might have been some truth in the words.” Castiel defended. Dean sat up sharply, shaking his head. “What?”

 

“You're a hopeless romantic, Cas. It's cute.” He said, turning back towards the letter. Castiel didn't know what a hopeless romantic was, but he thought it must be good, since Dean thought of it as endearing. Dean continued to read, _“Every time I look at you, I feel a warmth. You are the centre of it. I wish to spend all of my time with you, to let my hands travel along the expanse of your skin. You are a delicate rose and I wish to be the gardener.”_

 

Dean immediately began to snicker, his laughter shaking his form. His lips were pulled into a wide smile. “Gee Cas, I never took you for the type to read porn. This is filth.” He teased.

 

“It is not. It's love.” He puffed up, blushing madly. “And it's not as ridiculous as you say. I- I have experienced something akin to those lines.”

 

Dean turned towards him, eyebrows raised. “You have a girl you like?”

 

“Not a girl.” Castiel corrected, without thinking. Dean's mouth went slack, and his eyes searched Cas's in question. Slowly, as the silence stretched, an odd sort of tension grew. Several times Dean thought of something to say and couldn't force it out, silenced by his own tongue. He leaned towards Castiel, the warmth seeming to fill up the space between them.

 

“There's nothing wrong with it. I, I actually have a crush on a boy, too.” He said. Castiel felt himself shifting closer now, into the addictive heat. His eyes flickered to Dean's lips, moist and inviting and full. His eyes fluttered as he looked back up into Dean's, hoping beyond hope that what he thought may be right.

 

“And, that boy,” Castiel started to ask, leaning closer. Through the heat and the hope of the moment, he couldn't think straight to see if this was a good idea or not. All he could think of was how those lips would taste against his own, how Dean's body would feel pressed up against his. How if he was right in his assumption, he could have all of that. “Wouldn't happen to be me, would it?”

 

Dean's eyes began to flutter, and Castiel closed his own.

 

“GUYS! THIS BOOK TELLS ABOUT DIFFERENT ROOTS TO HELP BROKEN BONES!” Sam shouted. Dean and Castiel both jumped, putting several more inches between themselves before Sam barged in, holding the book in front of him excitedly.

 

“Am I- Am I interrupting something?” Sam asked, noticing the tension in the room. Dean shook his head no, and Castiel felt his stomach drop.

 

“Let's go back downstairs, I have some baking to do.” He said. He stood, shaking off the tension that had clung to him. His hand dipped and offered Dean a way up, but Dean stubbornly used the floor, never the one to accept help. Castiel looked towards the rafters, refusing to make eye contact with anyone as he moved towards the stairs.

 

The three little boys moved down, and Castiel got Sam and Dean o help with the baking. He kept a strict no-magic rule, to which they fiercely opposed. He caught them trying to break it three separate times, and was fairly sure by the end of it they had snuck something in somewhere. He could care less when he smelled the warm scent of softening apples and flaky crust from the oven.

 

The three of them ate together, Dean moaning enthusiastically at the flavour. Castiel tried not to stare as he licked the cinnamon off of his hands, feeling a little bit like a pervert. After all, Dean had told Sam he wasn't interrupting anything, so didn't that mean that nothing was going to happen? Didn't that mean that Castiel's feelings were not, in fact, returned in full?

 

“The sun is setting.” Dean said, suddenly. He sat up straighter, and his eyes filled with fear. “Sammy, Dad will expect us home soon. We have to go. _Now._ ” Dean said, sounding panicked. Sam looked towards the window and cold realization dawned upon him.

 

“You're right. Cas, we have to go now. If we don't get there soon enough, we might not be able to have you over for a little while. I'm sorry.” Sam said, standing up. Dean stood with him, and both of them started towards the door. “I would stay, but we really don't have the time!”

 

“I understand.” Castiel said, flatly. Dean turned around, his eyes flickering with indecision. Castiel felt hope rise within him that Dean was going to tell him that what happened earlier wasn't a fluke, that his feelings were returned. He hoped that Dean would run back and crush their lips together, heating Cas's body in a way that only Dean's had before.

 

“DEAN! We need to go!” Sam yelled, grabbing him and pulling him along. Dean glanced towards the door and back towards Cas, apology written on his features.

 

“We'll talk when I get the chance.” Dean promised. Castiel held onto those words, cherishing them like they were his only hope.

 

And Dean was out the door, gone into the twilight.

~~~

The next time they saw each other was four months later, when Dean had his sixteenth birthday.

 

Castiel was fifteen, as of two months ago. He'd felt lonelier than ever on that day, with none of his true friends to spend the time alongside. He pouted in his bedroom, and his mother had expressed concern. He'd brushed her aside, telling her that it wasn't a big deal.

 

Since then, he had only gotten worse. He longed for his friends like he longed for the sky. He wanted to feel Dean's arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. He couldn't help but imagine that they had other, more important things to do, and it made him feel unimportant. But in his heart, he knew that this was irrational. Sam and Dean both loved him.

 

But, to what point? Dean and him had been so close to kissing on that day, so close to becoming more than friends. He could have sworn this to be true.

 

He heard their call, the familiar tug causing his heart to thump painfully in his chest. He ran out the door and down the dirt road and through the fields until he was finally there, the journey seeming to take even longer than it had before. Castiel eagerly crawled through the thicket, ignoring the late hour. His mother would be worried if she decided to check his bed later that night and saw it empty, but he couldn't worry about that now. He'd gone far too long without his friends.

 

Dean was the only one there. The bright purple light to his left reflected off of his glossy black horns, the colour of his eyes matching for a moment. He visibly relaxed when Castiel stood up, his eyes flickering back to green and a smile pulling at his features. Cas noted that his hair had grown a little longer in the time they had spent apart. Dean's smile still melted his heart.

 

“Cas, I thought you weren't gonna come. I missed you.” Dean said, walking over and pulling him into a tight hug. Castiel froze for a minute before wrapping his arms around Dean in return, and pulling him closer. Finally, Dean broke away, his hand still lingering on Cas's shoulder, a comforting warmth.

 

“I always come when you call.” Castiel said, and Dean smiled.

 

“Listen, I needed to talk to you. This is the first time dad's been out, and he took Sam with him, so we're all alone. What happened back at the house, that was-” Dean started.

 

He was cut off by Castiel grabbing him and pulling him down for a sloppy kiss.

 

He froze up at first, eyes widening. When he realized what was happening he let himself relax, the hand on Castiel's shoulders falling to grip his hip. He leaned into the kiss, lips starting to respond against Cas's, elation thrumming through him. Castiel himself had never felt more alive, and hated it when Dean pulled away so that the two of them could breathe.

 

They panted, Cas's eyes falling to the ground as he caught his breath. Slowly, as they recovered, Dean began to chuckle. Castiel looked back up to admire the crinckles of his eyes as he smiled.

 

“Well Cas, tell me how you really feel.” Dean teased. Cas paused, not entirely understanding the request.

 

“I thought that was what the kiss was for.” Cas said, tilting his head. Dean stared at him for a moment, as if trying to digest whether or not he was being serious.

 

“Just shut up and do it again.” He said, pulling Cas in again. This kiss was more gentle, wetter, Cas could feel every contour of Dean's body pressing up against his as their lips slowly slid over each other. The chill of the night was overtaken by the heat of Dean's body, and Castiel felt as if he could wish for nothing more. His friend of years was currently trailing his tongue along his bottom lip, begging for entrance into his mouth, letting out a small noise of pleasure as Cas's tongue met his...

 

They pulled away again, panting. Dean's eyes had turned deep black, and Castiel thought he had never felt such comfort looking into a colour so unsettling. He loved Dean, every part of Dean, even the one with black eyes and claws.

 

“There's something I want to show you.” Dean said, affectionately. Castiel nodded his head. He soon found his legs swiped out from underneathe him as Dean picked him up bridal style, hugging him tight to his chest. “Hold on tight, Cas.”

 

Dean's wings rose far above his head and he powerfully took to the sky, Cas held tight against his chest. Castiel closed his eyes on the ascent, not wanting to make himself sick from the sight of the ground so quickly spiraling away. He gave a sigh as Dean's flight pattern evened out, wrapping his arms tight around Dean's neck. He didn't open his eyes, simply enjoying the breeze as it caressed him.

 

Soon enough, Dean landed. Castiel found himself roughly set back onto his feet, and his eyes snapped open. Dean looked apologetic, but decided not to say anything. He gestured behind Cas and Cas turned, his breath leaving him at the sight of what was to be seen.

 

A tree sat on the cliff. There was ten feet in between him and the edge, and the tree was so large that its outer branches hung off into the air. It was large and twisting and the bark looked surprisingly smooth in the pale light of the moon. Near the base was carved 'DW' and 'SW' in large letters, crudely written. He turned back to Dean, question in his eyes. Was Dean showing Cas... his home?

 

“This is, uh, where we sleep at night.” Dean said, sheepishly. “It's a big deal to show someone this because basically the only time we're vulnerable is when we're sleeping. Sorry if it doesn't seem like much.”

 

“It seems like something beautiful and personal, Dean. Thank you.” Castiel said, warmly. Dean's eyes glazed over in affection and he took a step forward, bringing Castiel back into his arms. Their lips connected softly a couple of times, before quickly escalating into something more demanding. Cas's hands slipped down Dean's shoulders and touched his feathers, lightly tracing them with his fingertips.

 

Dean's entire body froze as his wings fluffed out. He pulled away with a gasp, eyes flickering to black as he looked into Cas's.

 

“I want to touch your wings.” Castiel said, the urge coming onto him all at once. Dean looked at him blankly for a moment, before biting his lips in indecision.

 

“Alright.” He finally said, his voice low. “But, they're a little...sensitive.” He explained. Castiel nodded his head.

 

Dean gave a sigh and pushed past Castiel, walking to the tree. He braced his right arm against a low-hanging branch, and let his body fall against the trunk. Slowly, his feathers spread out behind him like a peacock propositioning a mate. Castiel took a moment to admire them before he stepped forward himself, tentatively raising a hand towards the appendages.

 

At the first touch, Dean's feathers ruffled. His head lolled backwards and he pushed further into the tree, fist tightening. Castiel slowly let the feathers slip between his fingers, admiring the silky soft feeling. They looked like they would feel course and hard, but they were softer than silk. He unconsciously tightened his grip on one of the feathers, and Dean let out a groan. His voice was low and husky, and Castiel felt that fire surge through his veins again. The one he'd experienced few times before.

 

Castiel repeated the motion, tightening all of his fingers so that Dean's feathers were compressed between them. Dean gave a startled gasp, a small whimper escaping his lips. Castiel went deeper into the feathers, until the tips of his fingers poked out of the other side. Dean's body was shaking against the tree now, and Cas found the trembling to be absolutely mesmerizing.

 

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asked, his voice coming out lower than anticipated. Dean gave a soft gasp as one of his feathers snagged on Cas's hands, and he groaned as his head fell forward, against the tree. His knuckled were turning white from how hard his fist was clenched.

 

“God, no.” He said, taking a shaky breath. He chuckled a little bit as Castiel pulled his fingers, reluctantly, away from the feathers.

 

“I want to kiss you now.” He said. He knew that what Dean had just allowed him to do was something very trusting and beautiful. He was most likely the only person who wasn't related to Dean to ever touch his wings. He felt emotions boiling up to the surface that he'd never dealt with before, emotions that reminded him again just how hopelessly in love he seemed to be.

 

Dean turned around, feathers fluffing out again as soon as he was situated. Castiel knew that things were hot and heavy for Dean right now, and he didn't want to push either of them to do something that they weren't ready for. So, his kisses were gentle and slow, lacking the physical undertone that some of them had before.

 

This felt like something beautiful. Castiel could see it now; their eventual future together, living in the moors surrounded by the green and the fae. The only place he had ever truly felt home, his and Dean's territory. Dean would take him on flights every night, wings kissing the sky as he kissed Cas. Eventually they would build a small house, so that Castiel wouldn't be uncomfortable during the winter months when it was too cold for him. (Dean's magic seemed to keep his body temperature regulated). Sure, there were some flaws and holes and things to be worked out, but it all seemed clear enough.

 

Castiel loved Dean Winchester, and that was all that truly mattered.

 

Or, that was, until it no longer was.

 

Behind them, there was a powerful gust of air. Dean broke away from their kiss, peering around Castiel to get a look at what had landed. His eyes scanned the cliff face for a moment before they filled with terror and dread, concern for Castiel searing through his veins.

 

Castiel tried to turn around, but found himself roughly jerked back before he could. Cold, long claws pierced through the back of his shirt and drew blood, as he felt himself be tossed aside. He landed hard against the solid ground, just inches from the edge. His vision was blurry, unfocusing, as he desperately tried to make sense of the situation.

 

Sam was yelling. Dean was yelling. A third figure stood on the cliff, larger and stronger than both of them. Castiel forced himself to tune into the conversation, now that the immediate danger was so that he could focus.

 

“How dare you?!” The voice shouted, pointing a finger at Dean. “Your mother would have been _disgusted._ The very thing that sucked the air from her lungs and the blood from her veins, and you were sucking face like it was a damn _sport!_ What the hell kind of son did I raise?” John demanded, wings puffed up aggressively. Dean started to shrink back, but decided better of it. He stood up straight, a burning fire in his eyes.

 

“Mom wouldn't have cared if I was happy, _dad._ ” Dean said, making the last word sound like a slur. “Not all humans are like that. I know you're too butthurt that the one Mom decided to make friends with was to get over it, but mom wouldn't have been! She would want us to be friends, and you can take your insult and shove it right up your ass!” Dean snarled. John recoiled, rage flashing in his eyes.

 

There was a sickening sound as John smacked Dean, _hard._ Castiel jumped, fear thrumming through him. Dean was going to be hurt, maybe bad if John didn't get stopped. He would have said something, had Dean not turned right back and flared up his wings, showing that he was willing to fight. This, however, only seemed to anger John more.

 

“You know what? He's been your problem, hasn't he?” John demanded, turning to Castiel. His eyes burned with the kind of prejudiced and hatred that could only come from a blackened heart. “This is the reason you're going soft. Whatever this boy has told you, filled your head with, it's wrong.”

 

He walked forward as he spoke, each step making Castiel's heart pound faster. He sauntered over, feet trailing through the grass like it was a lush carpet. Like he was at the poker table and had an ace hidden in his sleeve. When he spoke again, it sent shivers down Cas's spine. “But, I think I know a way we can fix this little infatuation, Dean.”

 

He raised his hand, eyes still alight with fury. A couple of feet separated him from Cas, and Cas looked up in terror. This was it; this was how his life would end.

 

A shadow passed over him as Sam practically crashed into the ground between Cas and their father, putting up a shield of magic to stop him in his tracks. He was shaking from fear, but seemed to draw strength from Dean's frantic yelling. John glared.

 

“Sammy, this isn't your fight. Move away so I can fix this problem.” He said. Sam glanced at Dean, the fear and helplessness in his eyes, and stood up a little straighter. He looked John in the eyes.

 

“No, dad. Cas wasn't involved in this. Mom would be outraged that you killed someone just to punish Dean. How did you feel when she was taken from you?” Sam demanded. “The rational thing to do here is to let Cas go. He's not done anything wrong other than being a friend to Dean and I. I asked him to come into the moors and made friends with him first, none of this is his fault.” He said, practically begging. Castiel felt dread go through him.

 

The moors were his home! Sam and Dean were his family. He didn't know what he would do if he wasn't allowed to come back anymore. He gritted his teeth and sat it out in silence, reminding himself that getting away with his life would be best-case scenerio here.

 

John seemed to soften a bit, before assuming his usual cold and indifferent mask. “I can see you won't let me handle this like it should be.”

 

Sam seemed to relax a little bit, moving aside from Cas, trustingly. He could tell when he had won a battle.

 

“You and your brother protecting this maggot's life would be too much trouble for me to take on. Don't think I didn't know you were going to use your magic to try and stop me too, Dean.” Dean shrunk down at the words, smiling sheepishly at Cas. In light of the situation, it came out as more of a grimace. “Sam, you're to take him to the edges of the moors and say goodbye. Your “friend” will never set foot on these lands again if he wants to keep his lungs where they belong. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Dean and Sam said, at the same time. Sam turned around and grabbed Castiel around the waist, getting ready to take off into the air. He didn't want to wait around any longer than necessary; fearful that John might change his mind. Once Cas was out of the moors, he would be safe.

 

“Come on, Cas.” Sam mumbled, comfortingly. Dean's wings puffed up as he crouched his knees, ready to take off. John's hand wrapped around his wrist as his wings rose above his head, yanking him back down to the ground as Dean tried to go. He gave Dean a stern look.

 

“You're not going with them. You'd better say goodbye now, because it's the last you'll see of this scum.” John said, gesturing towards Cas. Dean's eyes filled with tears, sorrow slowly morphing his features into something nearly unbearable, and Castiel felt his heart cry out in longing.

 

“Bye.” Cas said, giving a small wave. Dean opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but found himself far too overwhelmed to speak. He was tired. He was lonely. He was loosing the person who very much had turned into his first love. And he just couldn't stand to acknowledge that this was happening, not now, not when they had finally been happy. Not when he was certain that his mother would have wanted this.

 

“Get him out of here. If your brother's too much of a sissy to say goodbye that's his own damn problem. Go.” John said. Sam wasted no time.

 

Castiel was lifted high into the air, wind swirling around in all directions as he rose farther and farther from Dean. Sam took off as fast as he could into the night, barreling at unparalleled speeds away from the danger. Castiel felt his heart sink further and further, or rather, being pulled further and further away as the distance increased. His hopes were low and his emotions felt numb. He almost died tonight.

 

He lost his family tonight.

 

A small tendril of magic caressed the side of his face, and he gasped. He almost recoiled for fear that it was John, but Sam wouldn't have been strong enough to hold him up if he got jerky and he thought better of it just in time. He gasped as a small voice whispered in his ear, familiar and warm, “Goodbye.”

 

It hit him all at once. His eyes filled with tears as he really let reality hit hard. Dean was gone. Dean was gone and Sam was gone and they were going to have to deal with the big ball of bigotry and hate that was John Winchester without him. All of this was entirely out of their control.

 

It was too soon that Sam set him down, the ground seeming farther from the sky than it ever had been before. Castiel couldn't help but wonder what kind of punishment Dean was receiving from John. The thought made him cringe.

 

“You gonna be okay? We don't have long, or he'll come looking for me.” Sam mumbled, sheepishly. His own eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

 

“I'll survive.” Castiel said, hearing the wall move as it shifted away. Soon enough, there was a hole just the right size for him to go through. He knew without looking that it was there. Sam had never once failed to get it perfect; Sam had always been a perfectionist. Cas was going to miss that about him most of all. “I loved you like a brother, Sam.”

 

“Hey, don't talk like you're dying.” Sam defended, passionately. “We'll find a way to get you back eventually. This, however long it may be, won't be permanent.”

 

“I... Appreciate your efforts, Sam. You have always been intelligent. If anyone can figure out a safe way around this, it will be you.” Castiel said. Sam froze up.

 

“He's coming. You need to leave.” He said, horrified. His eyes flickered from Castiel to the hole and back again. His entire body was on high alert, muscles tensed and hands fidgeting. Castiel made asplit decision and leaned forward, pressing his lips firmly against Sam's cheek. Sam jumped at the action, confusion almost entirely replacing his nerves. “What was that for?”

 

“Give that to Dean for me.” Cas gave him a second one, on the other side. “And that, was for being a good friend.” They only had a moment to bask in the warmth between them before Castiel knew he had to go. Sam had said that John was on his way and if he was caught still within the boundaries of the moors, he had no doubts that he would end up bright red splatters across the ground. Vivid, and somehow still beautiful in this strange and wonderful place, but all together not the best outcome.

 

“Bye.” Sam said. Castiel dropped to his knees, scooting across the ground. His pants snagged on a rock, cutting through the fabric and his skin. He hissed in pain, but continued to crawl through the hole. He didn't have time to stop and check it.

 

“Bye.” He whispered back to Sam, once he was through. He turned to watch, eyes unable to leave the slowly closing hole of twisted, gnarled branches. The branches that, as hard as he tried, he still could not bring himself to see as threatening any longer. The branches that were more of a home than his would ever be. The branches that separated his world from Sam's. His world from Dean's.

 

And, just like that, he was alone again.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

~~~ Sixteen years Later ~~~

 

Castiel heard the clomping of hooves, a horse whinny loudly in the square. He carefully peered out from the glass of his window, the small shop which it belonged to being all that he had.

 

Castiel had moved at the age of twenty-one, having been given a gift of money from his parents so that he may begin his own life. His mother had cried as he hugged her goodbye, but he assured her that he would be somewhere close. The kingdom was only a four hour travel away; he would be back every holiday, and maybe even more. She had held him close and warned him of the dangers of the world, as if he hadn't already known.

 

He bought a small store, two-level, and he filled it with books. Ever since he had lost his friends, books had become his only comfort. He made a decent living selling them, and knew that he made many of the townspeople very happy to see his selection. While most other sellers focused only on realism, Cas had mixtures of every kind of book anyone could want.

 

The upstairs, of course, was his home. It was small and impersonal, the bed being hard and the pillow needing fluffed, but he didn't care much. All he cared for was making his living and reading. One day, he hoped to have saved up enough money to explore other parts of the world, travel and learn, write his own novel. Something to get his mind off of just how lonely he felt sometimes.

 

Of course, he had friends. The town had a belly dancer who had taken a specific interest in him, despite his dispute of her advances. She was known to be quick to take if you weren't careful, but she had never stolen anything from him. She actually made quite pleasant company, when she was there. She was nonjudgemental and read the books he recommended, so they always had conversation topic.

 

If pressed, he would admit that she was, in fact, someone he considered a friend.

 

Castiel supposed he probably should have been attracted to her. Objectively, she had long black hair and smooth skin and wide, brown eyes. Somehow, though, he couldn't bring himself to like her. He wished, at this point, that he could.

 

Outside, in the square, horses rode by, one by one. Men in armour sat atop them, swords glistening in the sunlight. Several children looked at them in awe and astonishment as their parents pulled them back, hoping that they wouldn't get trampled by the passing guards. They had little care for watching where they were going.

 

His bell chimed, and he jumped, turning towards the door. Bright pink met his eyes and he watched as Meg slowly took off her headpiece, revealing her beautiful face. Castiel took note that she was still in the rest of the uniform, too.

 

“Hey there, Clarence.” She said, sauntering over to the counter. “You hear the news? Town caller yells that the King is leading a big attack on the moors today.”

 

Castiel paused. He knew it had been a long time since he'd seen Sam and Dean, but that didn't mean his feelings had gone. He still cared for them immensely, like they were family, even if Sam had let him down in trying to find a way back to each other. However, he knew that the fae were well-equipped fighters and could call on the wall itself to help them, so they would be fine.

 

It didn't stop him from worrying.

 

“That's interesting, Meg. I don't know why they even bother, though. They've sent plenty of men out before and they've not been able to get through the wall yet.” Castiel mumbled.

 

“Well, this time they've got the king himself with them.” Meg drawled. Castiel paused. “They say that the monster who lives in there has something against him. They think his presence will lure him and his sons out of hiding to fight for once.”

 

Castiel paused just a little too long, fear in his eyes. He'd seen Sam and Dean fight before, though. He had to calm himself down. If people found out that he was upset about this...

 

“Oh. Well that's... That's smart.” Castiel said, flatly. Meg's eyebrows raised.

 

“You don't seem all that enthusiastic. We may have a new pair of severed horns to hang in the square when they get back. How aren't you happy, Castiel?” She taunted. Castiel felt terror spike through him at her implications. He didn't want to have to walk out his door and see Dean or Sam's bloodied horns, knowing what they would mean. He didn't want to have to face that, day after day.

 

“It doesn't affect me.” Castiel said, flatly. Meg stayed poised a few moments longer, as if still pondering his response. Cas needed to change the subject. “Did you read the novel I last recommended?”

 

“Yeah. I actually liked it a lot. I didn't like the male character all that much, but I was happy that the story didn't revolve around him and his plot line, but it actually branched out and was open to the side characters the author was introducing. You always pick the best ones.” Meg said, smirking. Of course, she would kill anyone who overheard this conversation. Nobody needed to know she read.

 

Her boss, Crowley, didn't like hiring on girls who knew how to read. It made them more intelligent, made them more of a threat. Crowley didn't want girls (or boys, for that matter; she'd heard the rumours) who could be independent if they decided to run.

 

“Definitely. That's why I picked it.” Castiel said, smiling.

 

The rest of their conversation was spent on discussing plot dynamics of the book, Meg playfully insisting he should get more books with porn, and subtly hitting on him, more out of habit than anything. He was used to most of this by now, and the time flew by while talking to his friend.

 

Eventually, she left. She had to go to work in a few hours, and for now would bathe in rich oils and scents to make her seem as appealing as possible. She winked at him before she left, leaving him thinking again that he wished he could love her. No matter what he tried, there was nothing but a strong sense of friendship.

 

He made use of his time by cleaning the counters, organizing books, and tending to the few customers that came into the shop. There wasn't very much to do, after all.

 

Just as the sun began to set on the hill, he heard yelling over the horizon. He rose, walking over to the window again, watching as townspeople gathered around to see what the commotion was about.

 

Over the hill the King rode, clutching his side. He looked like he was about to keel over at any minute, but he had a nasty glint in his eyes that said his work was done. In his left hand, there was a long stick, with two stings dangling from it. Tied to the strings were two long, curved, black horns, splattered in deep red.

 

Castiel drew back, feet stumbling against the floor. His hand came up to cover his mouth, shock and horror flowing through him. His eyes filled with tears as he watched, and he slowly shut the window. He knew that it had been a long time since they had talked, but Cas couldn't help but feel devastated.

 

His friend, whom he had loved. Dean, whom he had loved, was now no more. His ashes probably sat in a heap at the foot of the great wall. Sam probably wept over them, saddened by the loss. Yes, Castiel had seen the way the king was holding himself, and knew that he was bound to die for his folly and insatiable lust for fae's blood. Somehow, the sweet kiss of death did not seem like punishment enough.

 

He ran upstairs, throwing himself down onto his bed. He let the tears come, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop them. His love was dead, gone, and he would never get to taste those sweet lips against his own again. The fate was a cruel one.

 

He cried until he felt numb. He cried until no cell in his body had the energy to cry any longer. He cried because a friend was lost, because all peace was lost, because he knew that Sam would be crying, too. He cried like he had never cried before.

 

Then, he slept.

 

For two days, he refused to open up the shop. People passed by, some knocked, most assumed he was sick. He couldn't make himself get up out of bed. What a society they lived in, that he feared to let anyone look upon his pain, in such a painful time? He longed to shout his sadness from the rooftops, to sneak into the kingdom and strangle the king himself.

 

Slowly, it got better. The pain was still there, but he learned to function with it. He opened up his shop, he drew in the sketchbook under the counter. He cried only when he was laying down at night, though cry he did.

 

He would have mourned more. He would have screamed and torn at his hair as he walked along the streets as he had seen young maidens and men do when their lovers were lost. But he couldn't let any know, so he had to force himself to move on. He had to force himself to stop from showing signs of grief that he should have been able to show. He had to hide behind the guise that he was happy for what the city had accomplished.

 

It was made a little easier when it was announced, on the fifth day, that the king had died.

 

He lay down a week after the incident, eyes closed and body heavy as he let the promise of sleep slowly pull him under. Things were hard; things were always going to be hard, because he had finally lost something he'd been hanging onto for so long. But it wasn't because Dean didn't love him, it was because he was dead. And Cas could move on. He would have to.

~~~

A hand roused him from his sleep. He startled up, hand immediately going to the silver knife under his pillow. The town had dealt with intruders before, and he had learned long ago to be equipped for every possible situation. If they were expecting him to give up his rent money that easily, they were in for a nasty surprise.

 

“Whoa, whoa, Cas! Please, don't! It's me.” A voice said. Castiel squinted at the form in the dim light, curiosity radiating from his every pore. That voice, while deeper, sounded oddly familiar, oddly comforting...

 

And that was when he made out the moose antlers atop the head.

 

He dropped the knife he was holding, letting it clatter to the floor. It was special-made by the silversmith, shaped more like a blade than anything. It was Castiel's favourite weapon, but he knew it was durable enough to sustain one drop. His voice quivered as he spoke, “Sam?”

 

“Yes, it's me. I think you should get up; I have some things to tell you and it would be best if you weren't half asleep.” Sam said, sheepishly. Castiel suddenly remembered the loss he was going through, and he felt a deep pang of longing from his own heart. He nodded, hoping that speaking with Sam might help him to deal with the grieving. Having his old friend back, after all this time, would be very nice.

 

Castiel stood, pushing by Sam to walk over to the small stove he had. He lit the flame and set a kettle of water on top of it, tea leaves ready to be steeped sitting on the counter. As he let the water heat up he walked over to the dreser and lit the few candles he had, fully illuminating him and Sam in light. Finally, he pulled Sam over to his small couch, shaking with anticipation. After all this time, Sam was back.

 

“It's been a long time since I saw you last. I...” Castiel bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears. _You're stronger than this_ , he chastised himself, despite knowing that he wasn't. “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

 

The pain on Sam's face was clear. He shifted uncomfortably, giving a deep sigh. He looked down at the floor, brokenly. “Yeah, I'm taking it pretty hard. Not as hard as Dean is, though.”

 

Castiel felt his breath catch in his throat. Had he been holding something, it surely would have clattered to the floor. He looked at Sam with hope in his eyes. Of course, maybe Sam had meant that Dean suffered the most _because_ he was gone? Castiel couldn't afford to get his hopes up.

 

“Yes, the horns on the wall say the same. I'm sure he would be happy to know, though, that the king is dead.” Castiel told him, beginning to feel some of the numbness set in. His pain was easier to manage when he didn't feel it as sharply. Still aware that it was there, but more looking at it than actually experiencing it. It was the only way he was going to get through this conversation without breaking down into tears.

 

Sam's head swayed upwards, and his jaw tightened momentarily. He nodded his head. “He'll be very happy when he hears that. My father's death was not in vain if Dean managed to get the monster that killed my mother.”

 

Castiel felt his heart pound against his chest. He could no longer contain the hope threatening to seep through his very core and out into the open. He had to ask Sam if Dean was still out there.

 

“Sam, Dean's horns are the ones that hang on the wall, correct?” Castiel asked. Sam looked over at him in shock for a moment, before confusion finally bloomed in it's place. Finally, the pieces clicked and he realized what Castiel was asking. He shook his head no firmly, raising his hands and waving them. They came almost up to Castiel's face, Sam was so much taller now.

 

“God no, Cas. Dad saved him. King Azazel was ready to strike a blow that would have killed Dean, and my dad stopped him. He stabbed a silver dagger through his heart; it turned out it had been a trap to get him, all along. Dean got really upset and crashed into his side before retreating, and raising the walls as high as they could go.” Castiel could not describe the relief he felt in that moment. “That's why I came to get you. Now that dad's gone, nobody is going to kill you for coming into the moors. Dean really needs somebody right now, Cas, and he never quite got over you. He feels like everything is his fault.

 

“He's brooding. He won't eat, sleep, he hardly talks to me. He's a walking and talking disaster, Cas.” Sam took a shaky breath, steadying himself. “That's why I came to you. Some good has to come out of this. Killing the king will be something, Cas, but you would be more. Dean needs you.”

 

“I don't know, Sam.” Castiel said, sighing. Sam's face fell. “It's been sixteen years. I doubt your brother has really held onto a schoolboy crush for that long.”

 

Castiel knew that Dean was not one to wait. He was impatient. He would have found other people, loved other people, he probably didn't even really remember Cas. Castiel may still love him, but he could not expect the same of Dean. He had probably changed beyond recognition, anyways.

 

“Castiel, please.” Sam pleaded. “He... He thinks that humans are all scum now, my dad brainwashed him. If he saw you, that would all go back to how it was before! Do you really want me to have to live like this?” Sam asked, flashing him his most adorable puppy eyes. “I had to sneak out of the moors to even be able to see you.”

 

Castiel hesitated. This sounded like a very, very bad idea. If Dean was hostile towards humans, what would make Castiel believe that he would act any differently towards him?

 

But, the hope and Sam's puppy face slowly began to crumple his resolve. The thought of seeing Dean again, of tasting those lips once more, was too tempting to ignore, especially when he had remembered for so long. He knew he was probably making a bad choice, but it was _Dean._ There was nothing he could really do.

 

He gave a sigh. “Fine. I'll do it.”

 

Sam smiled. “Thank you, so much, Cas.”

~~~

It was dark and cold as Cas approached the moors, two things that he had never known it to be there.

 

Sam hadn't mentioned that. The only thing he'd said was that the feeling had drastically changed, since things were mostly regulated by Dean. He had told Cas to be there around noon, and that he would open up a portal inside. He said that he would not be in the moors at that time, and that Dean would know the moment Cas stepped foot inside the walls. He said it would take less than ten minutes for Dean to realize he was there.

 

Castiel had ten minutes, and he was shaking with fear.

 

The shop was taken care of; he'd already told Meg that he was going to be out of town to visit his parents, and he had it closed up. Nobody went up against Meg, and since it was widely known that they were friends, he should be safe leaving it for a day. At least, since she knew that he was going to be gone and he'd been told before that she took it upon herself at times when he was absent to stand outside for a couple of hours and make sure nobody got any funny thoughts. Not that a bandit from another town wouldn't try to make that mistake, but...

 

Well, he couldn't really worry about that right now, could he?

 

The wall parted for him, and he sighed, remembering a time when he had greatly anticipated it. Now, the moors looked dark and uninviting, and he wasn't certain he wanted to take this trip. Sam had warned him that Dean may be hostile, and he didn't want to walk away from this with scars and bruises. He didn't want to walk away from this knowing that Dean hated him now.

 

The first step into the moors seemed to change the forest. It was more relaxed, somehow. He remembered why he had liked it here in the first place as the wind blew and, though sharper than it had been once, was not as sharp as the winter winds in the kingdom. The trees even when they were black and twisted looked full of life. The crunch of fallen leaves on the ground sounded like bittersweet music.

 

He leaned up against a tree, letting the bag he was carrying slip to the ground. He had a small jar of honey inside as a peace offering, and he was keeping his outlook on the situation hopeful. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breath, reminding himself that this was a wonderful opportunity. His friend, whom he thought to be splattered across the ground in pieces of red, was alive and well. Even if he hated Castiel now, Cas was lucky.

 

Dean had always made Cas feel like this. Palms sweating and heart racing, hope curling in his stomach. Castiel's mind, no matter how much he tried to keep it on track, kept wandering back to the sweet taste of his lips...

 

The rough sound of wing beats against the air made his eyes snap open. His body tensed against the tree as his eyes scanned the sky, looking for the familiar outline of wings. There was a loud thud in front of him as, reminiscent of the first time they met, Dean landed merely feet away. Castiel jumped.

 

Dean's eyes were entirely black, and rage was etched onto his beautiful features. His chiseled jawline, his soft and ever-pale skin, the freckles Cas remembered so well still arranged into the same (faded, now) pattern. His fingers, like they had been when he first met Cas, were claws at the ends.

 

“You have some fucking nerve coming here.” Dean snarled, rudely. “After _your kind_ killed my father, and almost had my own life. What the hell?”

 

“Dean, you know that's not fair.” Castiel defended. He reached down to his bag and grabbed at it, heart pounding against his ribcage. They may not be fighting, but it certainly felt like it could happen. He knew that he would be no match for Dean if it did (Dean had magic that he could use, or else the situation would be different), but he also trusted Dean not to kill him. After all these years, he still trusted him. His hand finally closed around the jar of honey, and he brought it out into the open. “I wanted to offer my condolences pertaining to what happened. I have some honey for you.”

 

“Your fucking _condolences?”_ He spat, swatting the honey out of Castiel's hand with his magic. It crashed hard, shattering against a nearby tree. Dean took a step forward, thoroughly encroaching on Castiel's personal space, and Castiel felt uncomfortable. Dean being this close was doing things to him that nobody else had been able to do... “My father is dead, Cas. Because of filthy scum like you, who think they own everything.”

 

“One bad human doesn't make us all bad, Dean.” Castiel said, taking a shaky breath. Dean's hand raised up slowly, coming closer. Castiel didn't dare move as he traced a line up his neck, claw digging into his skin hard enough to draw a small, thin line of blood once he reached his jawline. His face softened some, but not in a way that made Cas relax any at all. “I think you can remember our time together well enough to prove that.”

 

“Well, you certainly grew up pretty.” Dean said, ignoring Castiel's statement. Cas could taste his breath now, and it was sweet on his tongue. “I think we both know the real reason why you came here today, Cas,” He insisted, hot breath tickling his neck as Dean moved down to his neck to plant a hot, wet kiss where his claw had drawn blood. “Did you think I wouldn't notice how hard you are?”

 

“Dean, that's not why I'm here.” Castiel insisted. It took all of his willpower to shove Dean off, his cheeks burning hot as he attempted to keep his mind on the right path. “I'm here because your brother told me you were having trouble with your father's death and I wanted to help you-” Dean's wings puffed out, and his eyes flicked to green briefly before turning back to black as he let out an animalistic growl. Castiel flinched away from him, knowing that he had said the wrong thing.

 

“No, I don't think so. We're not friends here, _human_.” He spat. Castiel could tell that he was upset by it, and Dean stumbled backwards a few steps. Cas reached out to try and touch him, and he let out another growl.

 

“Dean, please. You know I'm not like the rest of humanity. You _know_ that there are good people out there. People who would like to get to know the fae. Please don't let your father's brainwashing get to you now-- We could be friends again.” Castiel tried, desperately. Dean perked up, seeming to forget all about his father at those words. His eyes flickered back to green, and he took a step towards Cas.

 

Cas found his shoulders pressed up against the tree, back slammed so hard against the bark that he was certain it would bruise. Coal black eyes stared into his own, eyes alight with lust.

 

“I don't think you mean that, Cas.” Dean said, sounding oddly affectionate. The hand that wasn't pinning Cas against the tree slowly began to work down his body, inch by inch. “I think you thought I was dead, and now you're sentimental. I think you're afraid your window of opportunity here is closing. I think-” Dean's hand pressed firmly against the bulge in his pants, where no one had ever touched him before, “You want to be thoroughly _fucked._ ”

 

Cas let out a small grunt, turning his head away from Dean. This turned out to be a very bad idea, as his lips were almost immediately attached to Cas's neck, biting and sucking a mark into his skin. A mark that would show everyone that he was _Dean's._ The hand on his crotch gave a soft squeeze and he let out a breathy moan.

 

“Dean.” He sighed, softly. Because he was too relieved that his friend was alive in the first place to fight it. He wanted this. No matter how long it had been, he and Dean had been friends for years, and more than anything he wanted to be in Dean's arms right now. He wanted to have Dean's marks all over his body. He wanted the numbness he felt from the death to be replaced by the searing hot kisses, the rough and heady thrusts...

 

He knew that if he really told Dean to stop, he would. But those words weren't coming out of his mouth, and they certainly weren't about to.

 

“Cas,” Dean growled, biting into his neck just a little too harshly. Cas felt his hips buck in response, and Dean gave another possessive growl that sent shivers up his spine.

 

“Dean, please,” Cas begged, as Dean gave another squeeze. Cas's hips bucked yet again, and his hands came to rest on Dean's shoulders. Dean pulled back from his neck and heatedly connected their lips, tongue forcing its way into Castiel's mouth. There was no struggle for dominance; Cas's knees were weak and his head was swimming and he wanted to be _filled_. The wet slide of lips against lips was accompanied by Cas's pants being slipped down his hips, just far enough so that his member could spring free.

 

Dean wrapped a hand around his base, and Castiel felt his entire body quiver. Red hot pulses of want were coursing through him, searing his veins. He impatiently bucked his hips, panting and squirming.

 

“Come on, Cas, have a little self control.” Dean purred, panting as he pulled away from the kiss. His eyes, just for a second, were a brilliant green. But the time was so short that Castiel could not entirely convince himself that it had really happened in the first place.

 

Dean slowly sunk to his knees then, claws lightly running over Castiel's chest and stomach. Castiel gasped as Dean very softly kissed his cockhead, sending sensation rolling through him. He was hard and red and swollen, and his balls were heavy from not masterbating in awhile. Dean looked up through his eyelashes seductively as he slipped Castiel's pants the rest of the way to the ground, gesturing for Cas to step out of them.

 

Almost as soon as his legs were free, he found them roughly pushed apart. His knees were shoved, putting about a foot between them, before Dean looked satisfied with the position he was in. Castiel's hands flew to his horns to steady himself, and Dean let out a small hiss, eyes closing briefly.

 

“Do you... Do you like this?” Castiel found himself asking, one hand trailing experimentally up the horns. Dean took another shaky breath, and his eyes snapped open.

 

“Yes. Keep doing that.” He commanded. Castiel didn't get a chance to respond; anything he would have said was replaced with a groan as Dean wrapped his lips around his tip, tongue flicking against the slit. As Dean slowly began to suck like it was a lollipop, his hand reached back to press against Castiel's entrance. Cas wasn't sure what he had used for lube, but somehow, the fingers were wet.

 

Cas tried to force himself to relax as the first finger pushed inside, roughly. He could feel the clawed tips pressing at his insides, and knew that with a twist Dean could have him in unimaginable pain. Hell, as it was, it already felt dangerous, and sharp. The second quickly shoved inside, and Castiel felt himself tense up. Dean sunk down a couple of inches on his cock, which quickly caused him to relax.

 

The two fingers were merciless, as well as Dean's lips, wrapped so tightly around his shaft. Dean was sucking at it like a pro, hitting all the right spots with his tongue, and letting out little groans whenever Cas's hands clutched at his horns. Cas's body felt hot and shaky all over, and he couldn't wait to have Dean's cock buried inside of him.

 

“Dean, I'm ready.” Castiel hissed, using Dean's horns to pull his head off of his cock. Dean smirked, and his fingers pulled out of Cas's ass. He grabbed Castiel's hand and yanked him down to the ground, making sure he didn't fall too hard against the ground, but still hard enough to be aggressive. Castiel watched as Dean untied the fabric around his waist, revealing a large, swollen, dripping cock. Castiel spread his legs in invintation.

 

Dean's eyes roamed Castiel's body, for a moment, and things seemed to soften. He looked almost affectionate as he observed the hard planes and contours of his chest, savoured the tanned skin. He seemed to realize that he was being too emotional, though, and to compensate, grabbed Castiel's legs and pushed them upwards, hard.

 

Castiel was flexible. So flexible, in fact, that his legs could practically touch the forest floor beside him. Dean held him there only a moment before his hands moved to the ground next to Castiel's head, and his wings puffed out on either side of them. Castiel remembered how sensitive they were, and resisted the urge to touch them.

 

His legs came to naturally hook around Dean's hips, lining up Dean's cock with his entrance. Again, Cas wasn't sure how, but he was already plenty slick as he pressed up against it.

 

“Now, Dean.” Castiel begged. Dean smirked, and with one quick flick of his hips, the head was inside. Castiel was given only a few moments to adjust before he was pushing, shoving, filling him up farther than Castiel had ever been filled by anything before.

 

It hurt. It burned, and he felt sore, but _Dean was buried inside of him,_ and he gave a small gasp once he was, and his hips rocked wordlessly for a few moments, trying to get Cas loose. Cas relaxed to the best of his ability, looking up at Dean's closed eyes and lips slightly parted as he panted, finally letting out a strangled moan. “Can I move now?”

 

“Move, please.” Castiel said. Dean's eyes snapped open, black and staring deep into Castiel's oceanic blue, as he slowly pulled everything up to the tip out. He snapped his hips again, burying himself to the hilt, and let out a pleased groan.

 

Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to rock in and out of Castiel, wings fluttering and stretching as he gave out beautiful, breathy moans. After a couple of minutes, Castiel jerked in surprise as Dean brushed up against something inside of him, and Dean smirked. He paused for a moment to readjust his angle, and suddenly, Cas's whole world was nothing but heat and pleasure and _oh god, harder._

 

“Dean, please.” He gasped, his hips coming up to meet his partner's. Dean stubbornly continued his too-slow pace, filling up Castiel to the brim, brushing up against his prostate, before pulling back again, leaving him empty. Cas desperately tried to coax him into upping the pace, but it seemed as though Dean were purposefully trying to make him frustrated. His belly burned with an intense fire as Dean moved.

 

“Do you want to know why I said my wings were sensitive, that night? Do you have any clue how you made me feel? How your body makes me hard?” Dean demanded, every word enphasized with a thrust. Castiel shifted his hips a bit, hoping to give him better access. He could hardly think to answer the question, but managed to choke out a response.

 

“Tell me.”

 

Dean leaned down closer, so that his breath was hot on Castiel's ear as he continued to move. He growled, “You almost made me _cum in my tunic_ that night, Castiel.”

 

“Dean, faster, _please,oh god, please,_ ” He begged. He could see Dean's resolve crumbling, and felt his cock give a dull throb. A drop of precum landed on his stomach, and he cried out as Dean's hips snapped into him, sharper than they had been going before. His pace increased, as did his force. Castiel soon found himself being rapidly pounded into, the forest floor scraping up against his back as Dean drilled into his prostate, sending him into throws of ecstasy.

 

Castiel couldn't help it any longer. His fingers reached up to tug at Dean's feathers, watching Dean's face contort as he did so. Dean's hips went even faster now; Castiel's vision was practically white with how much pleasure-pain was fighting to overcome his senses.

 

Finally, fireworks seemed to dance across his skin and as deep as his bones as he came, long, hot spurts falling onto his chest and Dean's. He groaned out Dean's name, hearing his own in return as Dean climaxed behind him. Castiel felt the warm seed shoot up inside him, and he let out a small gasp as Dean slipped out of him, softening.

 

He had cum without a hand being laid on his dick. (Or, at least, not once they'd gotten down to the real act).

 

Dean collapsed beside him, eyes drooping closed as an arm swung lazily around his chest. Castiel's breath caught in his throat. He wasn't sure what this meant. He wasn't sure if Dean's animosity had disappeared, or if he was going to be screamed and yelled at as soon as Dean realized what he was doing.

 

All Cas knew was that right now, he would take what he could get.

 

And if he was lucky enough for that to be falling asleep in Dean's arms? Well then, right now, he could feel his eyes drooping, thoughts becoming less and less coherent as he pressed up against the warmth of another body.

~~~

Castiel woke up to the sound of things being roughly shoved in a bag. He was vaguely aware of a pain in his lower back, but promptly ignored it. He sat up, not entirely clear on the details of what happened.

 

He saw Dean, systematically picking up the spilled contents of his duffle. “What are you doing?”

 

“You need to go.” Dean growled. Castiel noticed that his eyes were back to the green that he knew and loved. He frowned.

 

“What? Why? Dean, I think we need to-”

 

“ _'We'_ don't need to do anything.” He snarled, turning to Cas. His eyes flickered to black again. “It was fun once, Cas. But you're a fucking human and you don't belong here. You're selfish and cruel and I can't deal with that. Not knowing how dad would feel.”

 

“You're being ridiculous. You very clearly enjoyed-”

 

“What? Fucking you into oblivion? Yeah, I enjoyed that. But that's all it was.” Dean spat. He finally finished, and tossed Cas's bag back at him. Castiel caught it with ease. “You need to leave now, before I decide to stop being so hospitable. You got what you wanted, dammit, you got it. Now go.”

 

“Dean, that wasn't what I wanted at all. I want you to be happy.” Castiel said, truthfully. He slowly stood up, mindful of his still dull ache. “I want you to stop and think about what you're doing right now.”

 

“I already have, Cas.” He said, forcefully. “And what I decided was that you need to fucking go. I don't feel anything for you. I honestly don't give a shit about how you feel, you're leaving. Right now.”

 

Castiel hung his head, feeling the fight leave his body. He was tired and upset and sore, and Dean didn't feel the way about him that he felt for Dean. Maybe he was right in the first place; maybe Dean couldn't be reasoned with. Maybe Dean hated him now. Maybe he was going to have to go through the rest of his life, the knowledge that the love of his life was somewhere else, miserable, hanging over him.

 

He walked over to the edge of the moors, not all that far away. Leaves, dry and dead, crunched under his feet. The wall parted open, leaving a space.

 

“What the hell are you waiting for?” Dean demanded. Castiel glanced back at him one last time.

 

“I still love you, you know.” He said.

 

He turned at that point, unwilling to see Dean's reaction. He walked through the wall, head held high, proud. He refused to let anything that happened sully his hope. Maybe not now, but one day, Dean would realize what he had done was wrong. It seemed so hopeless, but... Cas had to hang on. He had to.

~~~

A week later, and Meg was still bothering him about “who he had laid”.

 

“Come on, there's no way you didn't. Cas, I know that look in your eyes. You shacked up with someone, and you liked it.” She teased him. Castiel gave a deep sigh, and she continued, “Come on, I promise I won't be jealous. Much.”

 

“Meg, listen, I didn't sleep with anyone.” He insisted. He knew that he couldn't let anyone find out; especially not that the one he'd slept with had been a male fae. If he let Meg have any information at all, he just might be tempted to share everything with her. He couldn't do that.

 

“Riiight, and I didn't makeout with Anna behind the meat place because I was bored.” She said, suavely. Castiel flinched.

 

“I am aware you stuck your tongue down my sister's throat, why must you continuously bring it to the surface?” He asked. He didn't care what Anna did, really, as long as she was happy. But he didn't want to have to picture it.

 

“I'm not sure.” Meg said, looking up thoughtfully. “Maybe I just like to see you squirm.”

 

There was a loud knock against the door, and both of them jumped. Meg turned towards it and glared with all of her hatred, seething. Castiel simply walked over and opened up, confused as to why they didn't just come in. Most of his usuals knew that the door was unlocked.

 

“Castiel. Well, if it isn't my favourite store owner.” Crowley drawled, inviting himself in. He looked around, eyes scanning over bookshelves and dust until they finally landed on Meg. She narrowed her eyes at him. After a few more moments of admiring the scenery, he turned to face the very confused Cas. “As you may know, I've been elected to take over Azazel's position on the throne.”

 

“I'd heard it through the rumour weed.” Meg said, from behind. This came as news to Castiel, but he certainly wasn't surprised. Crowley had his hooks and connections running all through the town, and he could yank a few throats if he had to. Rumour was he had Azazel himself collard, and had been calling a good portion of the shots involving the marketplace from day one.

 

“That's good for you, Crowley. I'm certain you'll take well to the responsibility.” Castiel responded, flatly. He didn't honestly care who had the throne, as long as it didn't interfere with business, and they didn't try to attack the moors. He knew from things that Crowley had told Meg that he had no interest in them.

 

“Yes, yes. Pity you might not be alive to see it.” He said, his voice cold.

 

Meg's usually calm demeanor changed. She went rigid, eyes flickering back and forth between Crowley and Cas. Castiel wasn't sure how to respond. “If you hurt him, I will personally drag your empire down to the bowls of hell, so help me-”

 

“Relax, love.” Crowley said, spinning around to face her. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes narrowed. “You can't threaten me with the place I call my home. And I never said that I was the threat. There's an old farmer speaking in the square right now, claiming that he saw our dear Castiel here,” Castiel felt a hand land on his shoulder, “Coming out of the moors, unharmed. This is obviously going to cause some issues, _if_ people believe him, of course.”

 

Meg relaxed some, the immediate danger less immediate. Castiel felt his stomach drop.

 

“What can we do about it?” She demanded, narrowing her eyes again. Crowley wouldn't have told her about it if he didn't have something else to say, this she knew.

 

“I would say that you would have to find an alabi. After all, Castiel had to have been doing something that day.” He purred, winking. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

 

He swaggered out of the shop, hips swaying as he went. The door clicked shut behind him, and there were a few moments of silence.

 

“Castiel, please tell me you were actually somewhere else that day.” Meg begged, giving a deep sigh. Castiel froze, his mouth unable to work. “Okay then, alright. If you were there, I need to know, Cas. I can have something set up with a friend of mine, to say that you two were together. We still have to come up with reasoning, but we can get this figured out. I'm not letting you die on me, Clarence.”

 

Castiel felt his feet move, felt himself stumble a few steps, but it almost felt like an out of body experience. It felt like he was just... going through the motions. He couldn't feel anything.

 

Then, it hit him. It hit him like a bucket of cold water. He was going to _die._

 

Before he got the chance to make up with Dean. Oh god, Dean would know that his last words to him were cruel... If Dean truly felt anything at all for him, (and Cas suspected that at the very least, there was still some friendship) he would feel awful. Cas needed a way to tell Dean that it was all okay, that he knew that he didn't mean it, that he loved him still. His eyes shifted up to Meg's.

 

“Meg, I'm going to tell you a story. You have to keep an open mind. You have to swear to me, that if I tell you everything now, you won't tell anyone else. And there's something I need you to do for me, in return.” Castiel asked. Meg paused, and an intense moment passed between them. She slowly nodded her head.

 

Castiel started at the very beginning, with Sam. Meg listened, her eyes down the entire time. He watched as she shifted uncomfortably a couple of times, looked happy or sad at others, and was generally calm about what Castiel was saying. When he finally reached the part where John kicked him out of the moors, she cringed.

 

“It sounds like that was pretty tough for you.” She agreed, slowly.

 

Suddenly, the door swung open, a small boy darting through and out. She turned, eyes widening in fear as she saw him running out the door. Both of them looked at each other, and it clicked.

 

He was a spy.

 

He had heard the whole story.

 

And Castiel was bound to die.

 

He swallowed thickly, fear rising up. He shoved it back down ferociously, trying to comfort himself. Everyone had to die someday, Meg would probably be okay, she could get a message to Sam or Dean... “I need you to find Dean. After I die, I need you to find him, Meg.” He said, urgently. “I need you to tell him that, when we fought, when I last was in the moors, I know that he didn't mean what he said. I can't let him live with the guilt from that. No matter what he may claim, I know he doesn't really feel that way.”

 

Meg reached out to him, putting a hand on his arm. “Cas, I'm not gonna let you die. We can get away, but you need to pack your things, _now._ Go.”

 

“It's _hopeless,_ Meg. They'll ambush us coming out of town, and then they'll burn you, too.” Castiel growled, shaking his head. He may have to go down, but he sure as hell wasn't dragging her with him. She had a life and friends and a job. He couldn't do that.

 

“It's not hopeless, Cas!” She cried, throwing out her arms. “I know you're ready to give up on yourself, but the rest of us aren't.”

 

“The rest of who? Meg, you are a very good friend, but you're one of my only. I can't risk dragging you down with myself. You're too important to me for that.” He scolded. Meg stopped, seemingly choked with emotion. She shook her head, reality finally settling in. She knew that she couldn't save him; it was a lost cause.

 

“I- I'm just...” She sighed in defeat, a tear finally falling. “I'm gonna miss you, Clarence.” She said, gravely. Castiel nodded his head, giving his own sigh. He knew that he was one of Meg's only friends, and he hated to leave her like that. He wanted her to be happy as much as he wanted himself to be happy. “It's gonna be hard to find decent reading material without you here anymore.”

 

“I want you to have my shop.” He said, suddenly. “Stop working for Crowley, run the place for me. It might take an attitude adjustment so people aren't frightened by your overwhelming lack of hospitality,” She smiled at that, “But I want you to have it.”

 

“Oh, Clarence, that's cute.” She said, standing up. She walked over, until she was just a few inches away. They could hear yelling now; the main square was only a couple of minute walk from here; the boy was young and healthy. He was probably telling his story as they spoke, leaving Castiel incriminated. “You think I'm actually gonna stay here without you? You're the only reason I didn't move on from this town. Without you, all it would be is a town of ghosts, memories and prejudice.”

 

“That's disappointing for you.” He mumbled, looking down. He felt arms wrap around his shoulders, and for once, he didn't feel like it was because he was being sexually come on to. Meg was genuinely trying to comfort him in all of this, and the only way she really knew how to comfort was through physical contact. Usually that would make him uncomfortable, but it was... nice, to say the least.

 

They just held each other, for a little while. Her hands ran through his hair, and he could feel hot tears soaking through his shirt. He didn't say anything about it when she pulled away, not even when they heard the yelling coming closer as the crowd gathered around.

 

“I think you should sneak out the back window now.” He said. She nodded her head slowly, finally letting go of him. She turned to leave, and he stopped her, grabbing a book off the counter and handing it to her. “I was going to recommend this to you, next. I hope you like it.”

 

“I always like what you recommend.” She said, before finally turning to the far window. In the blink of an eye, she was truly gone.

 

Just then, the noise had grown to a general chatter. A loud knock on the door reminded Castiel that there was truly a mob outside, a mob that probably already had a stake ready for him. He walked over to the door, trying to calm his shaking. After all, what kind of a person was he if he was nervous? No, he was determined that if he must greet death, he would embrace it like an old friend.

 

Almost as soon as he opened his door, he found himself jerked out into the open. Somebody pulled him out into the crowd and pushed him into the centre, all glaring and spitting words of hatred. It was the daytime, but three people (in his line of sight alone) carried torches; it was no question what they were for.

 

Castiel felt two people latch onto his hands. He couldn't see them, but didn't try to fight, knowing that it would make them even angrier. A rope was roughly tied around his wrists, digging hard into his skin as people shouted, as if this were a triumph. As if tying up a man ready to accept his death was something to be proud of, like they had won some battle. He held his head high.

 

An old man stepped forth, a hand pointing towards Castiel. “I saw him, coming out of the moors!”

 

Castiel felt his hair roughly jerked to the side, and he hissed in pain as his neck was exposed. He didn't realize what was happening until there was a faint gasp from the crowd. An unknown voice yelled, “He's unmarried, look at that mark on his neck!”

 

A solid boot came to kick his feet out from under him, and he landed hard on his knees. His hair was yanked roughly upwards again, forcing him to turn his head towards the sky.

 

“He's immoral! A danger to the community! Obviously bewitched!”

 

His only comfort was a single golden crow, resting on the top of a nearby building. It was beautiful, and gleamed in the sunlight. It turned towards him for a few moments, seeming to look in curiosity. He smiled at it, until another harsh kick landed on his hip, forcing him to look away, towards the crowd.

 

They were too close now, invading his personal space. There were cries surrounding him, yells for him to be burned, charred, that it was the only way to purify the city. There were the screams of fearful women, and the wails of children that hadn't a clue as to what was going on. He watched as the little boy stepped forward, and informed the crowd that he had been friends with a faery. Somebody pretended to faint.

 

It all seemed to move too quickly from there.

 

They began to march him, arms pulled painfully behind his back, down to the city square. People spat at him, a couple tossed punches. He kept his eyes to the ground.

 

The time passed. The square was alight with the cries of his soon to be murderers. A stake stood in the center of the square, and was slowly lowered down. He was shoved against it, ropes tied tighter and tighter around his body as they secured him. His breath came in short gasps, fighting against his ties. He squirmed, hoping for a centimeter of relief, and that earned him a swift kick to the jaw.

 

He stopped moving after that.

 

They rose the pole, and the pressure on his chest doubled as it was the only thing holding him up. His ankles were tied to the pole, but loosely enough that they could not hold him up. If they didn't hurry up with the burning soon, he was going to suffocate to death before they could.

 

The pile of wood under his feet grew. It took about twenty minutes of wheezing and gasping before it finally touched his feet, so that the fire would consume him. At this point his vision was blurring as his pulse quickened, using what little Oxygen his body had left much too fast. His eyes drifted shut for a moment, hoping and praying beyond all hope that Dean would let Meg deliver his message.

 

Dean, whom he loved.

 

In his final moments, it was only appropriate that he would think of his love. Many times a man will die trying to save the object of his affections, and they would greet death with pride and astonishment. Many times a woman would greet death for the same, and though saddened, they were peaceful. Though he had not died protecting Dean, Castiel knew that his death came from seeing him. He had the same odd sense of peace in that moment.

 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, warlock?” Someone demanded, from the crowd. Castiel's eyes flickered up to the mob, his vision disoriented. He could barely make out someone holding a torch up to the wood, about to catch flame. He smiled, the smallest smile.

 

“You will always be trapped by your fearful prejudiced. I- I-” Castiel had to fight for this breath more than all the others. In his delusion, he almost imagined that he could see the golden crow from the square, barely in the edge of his vision. “I pity you in this moment more than I could ever pity myself.”

 

With a great cry of rage, the torches were tossed against the wood, sending it alight.

 

Castiel closed his eyes, feeling the heat begin to kiss his ankles. It wouldn't be long until it worked its way up to him. It wouldn't be long until his skin was seared off his bones, the smell of burning flesh smelled throughout the town. It wouldn't be long until-

 

Just as his vision went black, there was a great swoosh of wind, and a fearful cry from the people.

~~~

Castiel felt no ropes or bindings around him. He slowly opened his eyes to see a pile of wood, blurry. Charred, but still hole. The fire had gone out, before it had reached the top of the wood pile. It slowly processed that he was lying on the village ground, cold stones pressing into his skin.

 

He slowly turned, curiosity edging at his mind. He felt sore and breathless, and smoke coated his lungs. He saw Dean's wings, stretched out threateningly. Townspeople cried out in fear as he growled.

 

“Stay away from _my mate_ ,” He growled, protectively. Castiel felt a small hope go through him. Dean was here; Dean could save him. Dean would take him back to the moors and hold him, protect him. This wasn't the end of his life, but perhaps a new beginning.

 

At least, he thought so. A great cry came from the crowd, and they ran at Dean, something held in their hands.

 

Dean collapsed on his hands and knees, crying out. A frightening hissing sound came from him, smoke rising up from everywhere the metal touched. Dean's skin was red and looked raw where the iron was burning him, leaving him immobile. Castiel watched as he tried uselessly to shove the blanketing off, trying to get free.

 

A wicked glint caught his eye. He felt dread bunch in his stomach as he realized what it was: an iron knife. He tried to move, tried to fight, but after having nearly suffocated he could barely bring himself to lift more than three inches off the ground. He tried to call out and warn Dean, but his voice seemed to be caught in his throat. The flames and smoke and lack of air left him barely able to raise his voice above a whisper. He was going to have to watch Dean die, before his very eyes.

 

Out of nowhere, a rock flew towards the knife.

 

It exploded from the villager's hand, clattering to the ground. If Cas could move any faster, he would've whipped his head in the direction the rock had come from. It seemed to take him forever to finally turn, his eyes narrowing in on the form of his long-time best friend. Hisses of “whore” and “traitor” resounded through the people. He felt a warm fondness in his chest that didn't go away, no matter how mad he wanted to be at her for not heeding his warning and staying out of this.

 

Then, he got the biggest shock of his life. From behind Meg's back unfolded a pair of glorious, blood-red wings. Castiel stared in shock, almost unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

 

He was convinced now that this whole thing was nothing but a delusion of the smoke; that his feet were being charred alive as he thought, because none of this could surely be real. Meg stood proud and fierce with the sun at her back, as she grinned a wicked smile. She raised her hand, and darkness surrounded the villagers.

 

She took only a moment to revel in her victory before she ran over to Dean, throwing off the metal. Dean looked up at her with thanks in his eyes and she nodded towards him. The screams and cries of the villagers reminded them that there was still a very real danger, and Dean shook off his burns. Castiel watched in fascination as he healed, faster than a human ever could hope to. His burned skin knitted over the red patches like the most exquisite piece in the gallery; with care and precision. It was as though the iron had never touched Dean in the first place. Cas wondered if this was why he hadn't any scars.

 

Dean crouched down towards him, scooping Cas up in his arms. Castiel fought against the pain that bloomed in his chest, trying to appreciate the way Dean's arms wrapped around him so lovingly...

 

The choppy rise and fall of wings lasted the whole trip. All in all it was about thirty minutes long, and miserable for Cas. If he weren't in Dean's arms, he would have firmly referred to it as the least enjoyable thirty minutes in his entire life.

 

His lungs were determined to cough themselves up. He hacked and spat. He could taste blood in the back of his mouth by the end of it, the smoke and abuse and all ending up to be too much. There was a sharp pain in his right side where a boot had fallen none the gently.

 

All the time they were in the air, Dean looked down at him in concern. His eyes flickered from green to black and back again, making the whole thing disorienting for Castiel to keep up with. His thumb soothingly ran up and down Cas's bare skin, comforting him. Even the small distraction meant a lot to Cas right now, as he was desperately trying to hold himself together.

 

A couple of tears had escaped by the time they landed, the setting down itself being the most painful part of the experience so far. Castiel knew he would have preferred it to riding a horse, though, which he learned after a few moments of insistent clomping, was the alternative.

 

“How's Clarence doing?” Meg asked, pulling the reins of the Clydesdale she was riding.(Of course, Meg would steal the most extravagant horse in the stables). It galloped to a stop, merely feet away from Castiel. Cas forced himself to turn to her and give her a smile.

 

“I'll probably live.” He said, speaking truthfully. There were risks of infection, and he was fairly certain he had a broken rib at this point, which would not be good for speeding along the healing process. “What you did back there was very brave, Meg. Even if it was stupid. I owe you my life.”

 

“You'll pay it back sometime, I'm sure.” She said, winking at him. “I might have to go now, but hey, the half-faerie can get around when she wants to.” She said, fluffing up her wings to illustrate her point.

 

Castiel nodded his head, figuring that that made sense. If she was only half a fae, that was probably why she had chosen to stay in the human world.

 

“That is, unless,” She said, turning towards Dean, “You want me to take him with me?”

 

Dean hesitated, and Castiel nearly let out a cry of pain as his arms unconsciously tightened around his body. He kept silent, knowing that it was only because he was worried and overwhelmed, and not wanting to make Dean feel bad. “No, he'll heal faster here. And you have your magic to protect you. He doesn't have that.”

 

“You're implying that I wouldn't be able to protect him?” She asked, raising her eyebrow. Castiel hoped that Dean wouldn't start a fight with Meg; not when he was like this.

 

“Well, you are only half a fae. I'd have better healing abilities and more resources here in the moors. If you'd like, you can come and get him when he's fully healed. But even with my magic, that will take awhile.” Dean said, his jaw tightening. Castiel felt his stomach drop. Even though Dean had saved him, he didn't want to keep him here. He still wanted Cas to leave.

 

“I'll admit to that, pretty boy,” Meg drawled, shrugging. “There are some things I have to take care of. I'll visit in about three months. Castiel had better be well by then or I'll be forced to question whether or not you meant to save him. You're pretty keen on him leaving for someone he used to date.”

 

If the fact that Meg knew this surprised Dean, he didn't let it show. He nodded his head, dropping his eyes to the ground. “Yeah, well, I'm sure you'd do the same if you were in my shoes. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe Castiel should be looked at by someone.”

 

“I'm not arguing with that.” Meg said, nodding. Her eyes drifted to Cas, and her smile turned soft, lips parting gently. Her eyes showed all of the affection she had for him sparkling in their depths. “You'd better get better. We have an entire world to travel and everybody has to die eventually. I'm not gonna be waiting around for you forever cause your boy toy wasn't competent enough to heal you fast.”

 

“I love you too, Meg.” He responded. Though that may not be what she said, he knew that it was what she had meant. She smiled, nodding.

 

“Take care.” She said, turning and swinging herself up onto her horse, She looked back down at him as she rode off, towards the horizon. Who knew what she would be doing for the next three weeks? Maybe she would seek adventure, maybe she would take a break and settle down, maybe she would have a mixture of both. All Castiel really knew was that he was looking forward to seeing her again.

~~~

When he next awoke, he was laying in a bed made of plush moss, a blanket wrapped snugly around him.

 

Dean had carried him into the moors, and with a wave of his hand, Castiel had a home grown of moss and wood and flowers. The golden crow he had noticed before sat perched on the windowsill, watching Dean as he set to work.

 

Dean stripped Castiel of his shirt and pants, but had the decency to leave Cas in his underwear. He'd slowly felt up Cas's skin, an act that would have been sexual had so many places not caused Castiel to flinch. He'd healed those places what little he could right at first, (it could be dangerous to heal a human all at once with fae magic) but other than that mainly just made mental note of Cas's condition.

 

Cas coughed more than he'd liked to. In fact, he felt a jarring, chest-aching cough set through him in spasms almost as soon as Dean was done with his inspection. Dean looked most concerned when Castiel had done that.

 

“I think the most dangerous part of this is going to be making sure your lungs heal properly. After that, you'll be good to go run away with the halfbreed.” Dean mumbled, darkly. Castiel thought about arguing with him, demanding to know why he had saved him if he was only going to shove him away again, but he felt too sore and tired to do anything.

 

Dean turned to leave, and Castiel could see that a couple of places where the metal had touched his skin had yet to heal. He didn't want to be alone like this; so fragile, and weak. Especially not when Dean had been _holding_ him. Not when he'd had that. He hoarsely croaked out, “Don't.”

 

Dean paused, and Castiel could visibly see the flicker of indecision. Hope rose up in him. Dean was his best friend; Dean was his everything. The moors had brought them together once, and he had a certain kind of faith that it may happen again. Dean would be his, and he Dean's, and they would live together, playing with the fae and talking to Sam, staying together through thick and thin. Dean would love him again.

 

But, of course, that would have taken something different entirely. Because Dean's hand tightened on the doorknob and he shoved it open, taking long strides away from where Cas lay, broken in what was now more ways than he could count.

 

He curled up, seeing out of the corner of his eyes the crow seeming to shake its head. It was entirely too much of a human gesture for a thing like that, so he wrote it off as a hallucination. His eyes slowly drifted shut and a couple of tears welled up, but refused to fall. It wasn't long until the sadness and exhaustion overtook him, and he was sleeping.

~~~

He hacked and coughed himself awake a little over two days later.

 

His eyes drifted open, and the room seemed to spin. He noticed that there was a blanket on top of him that hadn't been there before, and refused to wonder how it had wrapped around his shoulders on its own. He felt his stomach give an almost lurch, and he stumbled up. It was worse as he stood.

 

He ran outside, just in time. As soon as he was facing towards the bushes on the side, he knelt over and emptied his stomach. His ribs ached and burned as his muscles spasmed, not stopping until all that was coming out was a burning yellow liquid. When he was finished and he felt like he could breathe again, he stumbled back a few feet sat down on the front steps, trying to stop the horrid spinning in his head.

 

His lungs burned, his chest hurt, everything was stiff and sore. He felt a human hand on his shoulder and didn't look, assuming it to be Dean.

 

“Tough luck, buddy?” A voice called. He turned towards it sharply, then immediately had to stop to put his head between his knees. “Whoa, whoa! Relax, don't jump on me. Sammy told me that you need to be resting, and to call him if you threw up blood. Since that's what just happened,” Castiel wondered how he didn't notice the flavour of blood on his tongue, but figured it was burned away by the sear of stomach acid, “I have the feeling you're not doing too hot.”

 

When Castiel was entirely certain that he wasn't going to throw up again, he tentatively lifted his head towards the voice. In the low light, he could barely make out a face with smile and laugh lines, and golden, tossled hair. The colour reminded him oddly of the Crow that had been following him around since he'd gotten here.

 

“Sam told you to?” Castiel demanded. The being nodded his head.

 

“Yeah, I'm a friend of his. Actually, he saved me from getting beaten to death by some farmers a couple of months ago.” He said, solemnly. Then, his face returned to cheerful as he put in, “My name's Gabriel.”

 

“Gabriel.” Castiel repeated, nodding his head. He stuck out a hand, more out of habit than anything. Gabriel eagerly grabbed it, and Cas jerked his arm away as he felt something... _odd._ There were feathers in a neat little bracelet around Gabriel's wrist.

 

“Oh, sorry. I should have warned you first. I'm not entirely human, myself.” He said, gesturing towards his body. Castiel felt a million little questions slowly begin to bubble up, and he shoved them all down, being too tired to deal with them right now. Gabriel seemed to understand, though, and began elaborating on his own. “Sam made me a shape-shifter. I was originally born as a crow, but I've been his right-hand guy ever since he did. I figure I owe him that much.”

 

“That's intriguing.” Castiel said, nodding towards him. He expected nothing different of Sam, though. Sam was much too nice and gentle to let something bad happen to someone when he could do something. “So I suppose you were the crow that I saw in the square?”

 

“Yeah, actually, I'm the one who came back and told Dean what was happening. He had sent me to watch over you and make sure you were okay.”

 

“He... He sent you to watch over me?” Castiel questioned. Gabriel looked surprised, before something clicked and he rolled his eyes, scooting closer. Castiel hadn't even realized that he'd sat down before then.

 

“Dean may act all tough and calloused, but really, his heart's just bleeding. When he starts to feel better about his Father's death, he'll get back to normal. He really, really cares very deeply about you. In fact, he's come to see you four times the last two days. It was to the point where I actually felt bad for him when he came back the last time and you weren't awake.” Gabriel said. Castiel missed everything after 'two days'.

 

“I've been asleep for _two days?”_ He demanded, eyes widening. Gabriel nodded his head, grimly. Castiel turned away. “No wonder he was concerned.”

 

“I think it was more than the time span, honey.” Gabriel said, flippantly. “I've been around for quite awhile now, and I've only ever seen Dean care about one person as much as he clearly cares for you. And that's because he's his little brother. No matter what Dean says, you're very important to him, Castiel.”

 

Castiel turned away. He wanted to believe Gabriel's words, but he couldn't find it in him. Because if he let himself believe, if he let himself think even for a moment that Dean might be feeling the same things he was feeling, well... He didn't think he could take the heartbreak of finding out that it wasn't true.

 

“I think you need to get some sleep now.” Gabriel said, standing up. He offered Castiel a hand, which Castiel graciously accepted. Even so, his lungs burned with every movement.

 

“Thank you.” He croaked out, regardless. Gabriel smiled at him a little bit, seemingly amused by his thanks.

 

“Don't sweat it, kid. And by the time you next wake, I'll have Sam right beside the bed, caring for you like you need to be cared for. I bet Dean hasn't mentioned that he's taken books from several towns and is using them to become a sort of doctor around here.” Gabriel boasted. He swelled up, like a mother full of pride. Castiel vaguely wondered if there might be something going on between them.

 

“I couldn't be more grateful. And that doesn't surprise me. Sam always had a knack for... Helping people.” Castiel said. Gabriel flopped him back down on the bed, and he let out a sigh. Already he could feel his eyes drooping, and his breathing speeding down. No matter how much he wanted to stay awake and ask about Sam, there was no way he could force himself.

 

“Rest up, kiddo. I'll go get the moose while you sleep.” Gabriel promised. Castiel nodded his head, as much as he could. Because soon after, he was overtaken by a world of dreams and swirling, all-consuming blackness.

~~~

When he next opened his eyes, the sun was shining through the window. He was still on the moss bed, but it was damp from the morning dew. He slowly sat up, feeling his muscles and bones ache with the movement. He yawned, and then immediately gave off a sickening cough.

 

A flinch caught his eye. He turned just a bit, and Dean was suddenly in his full line of vision. He froze up when Castiel's eyes trained on him, wings fluffing out dramatically. Castiel almost expected a playful, 'You didn't get out of there too well, buddy.' He almost thought that things would go back to normal.

 

“You look like shit.” Dean said, instead. Castiel knew Dean was only talking about the bags under his eyes and the bruises forming all across his upper body, but it still stung.

 

“I don't feel much better.” Castiel allowed, speaking slowly. His voice was still dry and cracked, and it hurt to speak. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, he was just so drained. It seemed like no matter how much sleep he got, he was still tired. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Gabriel wanted me to watch over you, just in case you got any worse. He has to try and actually find Sam. So he could still be gone for a couple more hours.” Dean mumbled, darkly. His eyes drift from Castiel around the room, despite the fact that he knew every crevice and crack and branch that built the walls. After all, it was him who had brought the place to life.

 

“Oh.” Castiel said. He wanted to keep talking, so he decided to change topics. “Sam is a doctor now? He's working to study in medicine?”

 

Dean visibly relaxed when Sam's name was mentioned. He liked talking about his little brother; Castiel knew that they were very, very close to each other. “Yeah. He's out there saving more fae than I could count with his new practices and all this stuff he reads from those old books. I think he got a couple of them from that house you took us to, when we were younger.”

 

“I remember that. He ran into the bedroom yelling about a broken bone or something.” Castiel mumbled, blushing as he realized that they had been just about to kiss at the moment. Dean shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. His face hardened a bit.

 

“Yeah, well, both of us have changed a lot since then. He's not so enthusiastic it's annoying.” Dean said. Castiel knew that he loved his little brother's enthusiasm, but it seemed like he was trying his best to make sure that Cas didn't think he was his old self. To try and make Castiel think that he had changed.

 

“You may have changed in some aspects, but both of you are still my friends. I care for you.” Castiel said, gently. Dean's eyes flickered to black, and then he bared his teeth.

 

“You think you can just waltz in here and say something like that? You don't know what the hell you're talking about. I'm not the man I once was, Castiel. I'm a god forsaken monster, and I don't feel like you understand that.” Dean said, beginning to walk over. Castiel felt his stomach drop. “You aren't anything to me. You still feel like I have a heart; well guess what, Cas, it got ripped out after you left.”

 

“You know I couldn't help it.” Castiel defended, starting to feel guilty. He assured himself again that there was nothing he could have done to prevent the situation.

 

“I'm not blaming this on you. But honestly, I'm too broken to care if you blame it on yourself.” Dean snarled, giving a fake smile. “Because I don't and I can't care about you anymore, Cas. And you would do right to remember that.”

 

Castiel blinked. For once, he really didn't know how to respond. Dean was acting unnecessarily aggressive, and he was really too sick to deal with it right now. He just stared, because he wasn't sure what to do. Finally, he choked out, “You don't mean that.”

 

Dean stayed silent, turning away. His jaw flexed as his wings puffed up again, displaying clear agitation. “You wouldn't have saved me if you really felt that way, Dean.”

 

There was a great flapping of wings from outside, and Cas and Dean both turned to look. Through the window, Castiel could make out Sam's tall form, and a golden crow perched on his shoulder. The crow took a few flaps and then glided to the ground, perching there. With a wave of Sam's hand, the crow slowly morphed into Gabriel. He had the usual pleasant smile on his face.

 

A knock sounded a few moments later, and in a few long strides Dean had the handle clutched tightly in his hand. He opened it up and Sam strolled in, his face lighting up when his eyes met Cas's. Cas smiled; if he needed something the most right now it was knowing that he was wanted and cared for. For now, that was more potent than any healing he could receive.

 

“Cas, man. Gabe told me what happened. I'm so sorry, I should have been watching you-” Sam was interrupted as Castiel broke out in a great fit of coughing, body heaving with the effort of forcing air and liquid in and out of his lungs. He tried to cover it with his elbow, which ended up sprayed in a sticky, clear fluid.

 

“Sorry, Sam.” He croaked out, staring at the fluid.

 

That wasn't good. He'd seen it before, sometimes. In the diseased and in the infected, in the people who were just too far gone to hope for saving. He'd seen it in the elderly dying of pneumonia, and he'd seen it in the babes clutched tightly to their weeping mother's breasts, the same mothers who wept with empty arms soon enough. He'd seen the grim looks those who coughed this up got from the caretakers, seen the whispered truths between the doctors. He'd watched the awkward silences of everyone who came to make amends, not wanting to draw on the inevitable. Not wanting to acknowledge that death was just around the corner.

 

“Cas.” Sam said, and his voice was lined with a sadness foreign and yet familiar in nature to someone who had seen so much decay in the city. “How long has that been going on?”

 

“The coughing-” He started, but another voice rose over his own.

 

“The coughing has been there from the very beginning, but the fluid is relatively new. I noticed it a couple of hours ago, and it's been getting a little worse if that's anything to judge by.” Dean said, refusing to look anywhere but the wall. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest and his expression was stony.

 

Sam looked at Dean, really looked at him. His eyes flickered across Dean's entire body, as if the years had taught him how to read Dean like he reads his medical books. His eyebrows drew together as he drew his conclusions, eyes flickering back and forth between Dean and Castiel as his body stiffened. For the first time since he had walked in, he seemed to sense the tension in the room, and it didn't look like he much cared for it.

 

“I'm fine, Sam.” Castiel lied. What little comfort he could offer one of his few friends may be worth more than gold ever could be, once he was gone. He'd all but accepted his fate now.

 

He briefly wondered how long it had been that he'd been up on the pole, breathing in the smoke. He'd passed out, he knew that much. He could have been up there only seconds, or he could have been encased by a wall of sooty black for fifteen minutes; it all depended on how long it took Dean to get there and how dry the kindling was that the villagers used.

 

“No, no you're not fine. The good news is that I know where to get you some medicine.” He said, looking Castiel up and down. His gaze flickered to Dean.

 

“I don't care what kind of ridiculous animosity you have towards him, it can come back later. Dean, you better stop acting so frigid, because while I'm gone he's going to need extensive care.” Sam said, making a couple of wide gestures. Dean simply stared, and Sam's hands dropped back to his side. He paced a few steps, and looked back at Dean in exasperation. “He's going to suffer, all because you can't pull your head out of your ass! Dean, we both know that you still love him, and you're going to regret it more than you've _ever_ regretted _anything_ if that happens.”

 

Dean still stared, jaw flexing. He twitched, but mainly remained blank. Sam let out another long sigh, running his hands through his hair. He looked back at Dean one final time, resignation written on his features. “If you can't even admit to yourself that you still have what you used to, then keep him safe for me. He's one of the best friends I've ever had, Dean.”

 

Dean twitched again, and this time, the tension drained from his body. He saw how desperate Sam was, and it woke him up. He opened his mouth and closed it, several times, before he found the right words.

 

“I can't believe you can still trust him after all his kind has done to us. I honestly can't believe it.” He began. His face turned honest, brutally so. “But if you think he should live, I'll keep him alive. But it's for you, and for you _only_.” He emphasized, throwing Castiel a glare.

 

“I feel like I should have a bowl of popcorn for all this drama.” Gabriel mumbled under his breath. Sam shot him a glare and his mouth shut.

 

“Think and use whatever motivation you want to now. Just keep him alive while I'm gone.” Sam said, calming down some. A few moments of silence passed and Dean nodded his head. The tension in the room had calmed down to a certain degree, leaving room for Sam to walk over and place his hand gently against Castiel's forehead. Castiel leaned into the touch, some of the first real contact he'd had in awhile.

 

“You need to make sure his fever calms down. Get him some blankets, keep cool water by him; if it comes right down to it and he's shaking hard enough, you have to find some way to keep him warm. I don't care what that is, but he's too weak for you to use magic.” Sam instructed, clear and to the point. He was in doctor mode, now.

 

“Got it. Cold and hot, in that order if you don't get back in time.” Dean said, nodding his head curtly. Sam nodded back, his hand now pressed firmly against Castiel's neck, trying to get a pulse.

 

“I'm going to leave Gabriel here with you,” Sam said, hands moving down to Castiel's chest. “Breathe in deep for me, Cas.”

 

“Hey!” Gabriel objected, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don't want to be caught in the middle of Mr. Prejudiced and his spring fling over there.”

 

“Somebody else might get hurt and need your help. Not to mention that we both know you'll distract me. Not that I don't normally like a little distraction now and then, but time is of the essence.” Sam said, removing his hands from Castiel's aching chest. Gabriel's mouth drops open in faux surprise.

 

“Come on Sambo, somebody's life is on the line. You don't honestly think I'm _that_ insatiable, do you?” Gabriel asked, flashing his apparent boyfriend a cutesy smile. Sam retaliated with a firm glare.

 

“Yes, yes I do. And I have to leave, now.”

 

“Of course, you stick me with the oversized chicken.” Dean mumbled, grabbing the stool next to the bed and settling down. Castiel felt his eyes begin to droop at this point; he was still tired, his muscles still ached, and as much as he hated to drift off, he felt like he could use another couple of hours. Besides, Sam would be back around that time, and he would have the medicine that he needed to help him fight off the respiratory infection.

 

“I'm not gonna be hangin' around bucko, I'm gonna be out there, helping the good fae folk while your brother is gone.” Gabriel said, lips stretching up into a cheerful smile. Dean rolled his eyes and turned away, clearly not interested in holding a conversation with Gabriel.

 

“I'm going to leave now. It will be best for him that we work fast. Remember Dean,” Sam started, turning towards his brother. He was quickly cut off.

 

“Cold then hot, if he gets too hot. In that order. I got it Sammy, this isn't kindergarten.” He said, a little harshly. Then, his tone softened. “Go do what you do best.”

 

Sam smiled at the compliment, and it radiated all through his body. It wasn't long before he and Gabriel were waltzing out the door, both of them having a mission to complete. Sam waved his hand again and in the blink of an eye Gabriel was in the air, and Sam had taken off, into the great unknown.

 

Dean growled a bit, pulling up a chair and sitting it next to the bed. “I'm gonna go get cool water from the stream. Don't wait up for me.”

 

Castiel waited three hours before he finally fell asleep, alone.

~~~

When he next awoke, there was a cool rag being pressed against his head. His body was shaky and the air seemed much too cold in comparison to his fiery hot skin. Sweat beaded on his stomach, creating an unpleasant, sticky feeling. Castiel could barely think, and his vision was blurry.

 

“Gabriel you son of a bitch, you'd better get here soon.” Dean growled, moving the washrag across his skin. Castiel gave a small smile, despite his condition. The sound of Dean's voice pulled over his ears soothingly.

 

“What's the sitch?” Came, from the doorway. Dean jumped a little, turning rapidly towards the noise. His eyes were frantic and desperate, and he was making large and over exaggerated hand motions towards Castiel. Gabriel's eyes flickered back and forth between the two of them for a moment before his usual friendly smile disappeared, and he frowned. “Oh, that doesn't look too good.”

 

Castiel didn't pay any more attention at that point. Dean was running a hand through his hair and it felt absolutely perfect, and it was difficult to concentrate with the sound of his own heartbeat seeming to drown out everything else. He simply breathed in and out, and clutched at his blankets tighter and tighter as he tried to keep himself warm. He was shaking and his teeth were rattling and all he really wanted was for it to stop.

 

“Gabriel, I'm not doing that. That's ridiculous and I'm not going to be that close to the human.” Dean growled. Castiel shifted, tuning into the conversation again. His eyes were closed, finding the light to be much too jarring to continue keeping them open. “If you wanna climb in bed with it, be my guest.”

 

“I already told you, there's a little girl that needs her leg set. He's too hot and water isn't going to do the trick. Since you can't use magic on him, you have to be the solution. You can lower your own temperature and get him to bring his fever down.” Gabriel persuaded. “He's not gonna enjoy it if that's what you're worried about.”

 

“Gabriel, I don't... I just can't, okay? The little girl can wait; it was her own damn fault she fell off the rocks. You need to get your ass over here and save him.” Dean growled. Castiel could hear his feathers ruffling. He tuned out again at this point, not fully understanding what they had to say anyways.

 

Time seemed to pass in a big blur. At some point, Gabriel ran outside and Dean chased after him, cursing all the way. Castiel was alone for a few seconds as Dean calmed down.

 

When Dean walked back in, there was a look of clear determination on his face. He violently tugged off his clothing, leaving himself exposed. He turned to Castiel, who still had his eyes closed, and growled, “This doesn't mean a damn thing. I'm doing it for Sammy because the damn chicken is being stupid.”

 

Castiel felt a dip in the bed, and he clutched halfheartedly at his blanket as it was yanked abruptly away. He felt something cold press up against his back, and tried to scoot away, but Dean's arm wrapped around his chest and pulled him tightly back. Castiel opened his eyes and turned around, trying to make sense of what was happening.

 

“What are you doing?” He growled. Or at least, he tried to growl. He was interrupted by a loud cough that shook his body, and he ended up just snuggling closer to the too-cold body.

 

There was no defined point when the cold started to feel good, but it did. Slowly and surely, Castiel embraced the temperature. His feverish skin began to cool, and Dean's grip around him loosened as he stopped trying to squirm away. He slowly faded off into a delirious sleep again, eyes closed tight as he thought through everything that had happened so far. Too cold, but good cold.

 

Several times through the night he believed he would wake to find Dean peppering kisses along his face, shoulders, neck, anywhere he could reach. Castiel wrote these off as the delusions of fever.

~~~

When he woke the next morning, Dean was up and walking around. Castiel had the taste of something bad in his mouth, and his fever had seemed broken. Sam was nowhere in sight.

 

“What happened?” Castiel asked, sitting up. His stomach gave a loud rumble, and it just occurred to him that he hadn't eaten in forty-eight hours. Dean's eyes flickered up to Cas, and he closed the distance between them, his own eyes turning black. Castiel felt a small fright that he was going to be hit.

 

So, when Dean grabbed his shirt and roughly pressed their lips together, shoving his tongue inside and exploring his mouth expectantly, it comes as a surprise.

 

Castiel bit back a moan. His arms came up on their own accord to wrap around Dean's neck, bringing him as close as possible. A craving had been awakened within him that he hadn't expected to see again for some time.

 

His stomach growled again, more insistent this time. Dean broke away with an angry growl, his eyes green again, and desperate. “I thought you were dead. I thought you were going to die.”

 

“Well, I'm not. Did... Did Sam get me the medicine?” He questioned, wondering why he felt so good. Well, good compared to how he had been feeling the last few days, anyways. His temperature was normal and he actually felt hungry and thirsty, his body beginning to catch up with him. In fact, speaking of catching up, “Do you have a bathroom in here? I've been stumbling outside when I need to go.”

 

“Around the corner, to the left.” Dean said, gesturing to the hallway. He gave a long sigh, tearing himself from Castiel's side. “I have to go and grow you some food now. I'll be right back.”

 

Castiel nodded, swinging his legs slowly over the edge of the bed. His feet touched the floor and he stood up, legs wobbling painfully from lack of use or stretch. He heard the door open and shut as Dean walked outside, and continued to hear the sound of wood groaning and rustling as he grew a tree.

 

Castiel sat down to relieve himself, not trusting his legs to hold him up long enough. It seemed like it took forever before he was finished, and he wondered how he had held it in for so long. He stumbled up again when he was done, sloppily pouring water over his hands from a pitcher beside the toilet. After a moment of rummaging in the cabinet beneath the bowl, he found a small bar of soap, probably courtesy of Sam. He took a moment to be grateful as he applied a thin layer and poured water over his skin again.

 

Finally, his business was done and he stumbled out again, taking note of the banister that had grown while he was gone. He gratefully grabbed it and used it to help himself walk the rest of the way to the main room. Dean had grown a table at the foot of the bed and a large bowl sat on top of it, filled to the brim with Castiel's favourite fruits. He smiled a bit.

 

Dean dropped his gaze as Cas met his eyes. He came over and helped Cas walk to the table, but his touch was cool and calculated. The passionate kiss and his fevered dreams of Dean kissing everywhere he could reach came briefly back to Cas's mind. That Dean seemed to have left again, leaving one cold and untouchable.

 

“You seem like something is bothering you.” Castiel said. Dean paused.

 

“I guess something is bothering me. I thought you were going to die and a lot has changed.” He admitted, still refusing to look at Castiel. He slowly lowered him into the seat, and Castiel immediately reached for some of the tart red raspberries. Dean sat down next to him, sighing. “Sam came with the antibiotics this morning and used a little magic to get them through your system faster. If it hadn't been for that, you would be dead. Your fever was so high and you were shaking so hard, I was worried.”

 

“I woke up a few times.” Castiel said, dragging up the memories that he wasn't even sure were memories. “I thought I was going to die, too.”

 

Dean's face hardened, and Castiel reached forward and grabbed a ripe pear, intent on eating as much as he could. He took a large bite, but it felt a little strange. After no more than a handful of raspberries, he felt full. Maybe it was because he hadn't eaten much in the last few days? He sat the pear down, wiping some of the juice off of his face with his hand.

 

“Sam said your appetite might not be the best at first.” Dean mumbled. Castiel turned towards him and found green eyes intently trained on his own. Again, he felt an intense need rise within him. His appetite for food wasn't as large as it had been before, but he found he had an appetite for something else entirely.

 

He leaned forward and pressed their lips together, swallowing Dean's choked gasp. Dean stood up sharply and Cas followed, parting his lips as Dean's tongue pressed inside.

 

Dean broke away, panting. He had a fire in his eyes and was desperately gripping at Castiel's hips, bringing him as close as possible. Castiel didn't think he'd ever seen him give off such emotion. “We can't. You need to rest.”

 

Castiel knew that this was true, but he also knew how Dean felt. He remembered when he thought that the horns that hang on the wall of the kingdom were Dean's, how upset he'd been. How being able to hold Dean and run his hands through Dean's wings had been the most comforting thing in the world to him, even when he was rough and angry about it. Cas knew Dean needed the same thing.

 

He pressed their lips together again, mumbling against Dean's, “Then I won't do any of the work. We can lie on the bed and you can grind against me.”

 

Dean let out a very small whimper, and Cas began to feel something rising against him. He sent a small roll through his body, rubbing up against Dean's hardening length. This earned him an earnest grind in return, and he couldn't help but feel accomplished by the way he was able to make the fae react.

 

“Okay.” Dean whispered. His lips moved from Castiel's and kissed down Cas's jaw, to his neck. He peppered kisses there before picking a point and beginning to suck sharply, making Cas give a small moan in response. He hiked his leg up onto Dean's hip, pressing their hardening cocks together through clothes. Dean's hands want to his legs and pulled the other one up, successfully raising Cas from the floor. A few steps later and Cas felt them tip as his back hit the cool moss of the bed.

 

Dean climbed on top of him, eyes full of lust and want and emotion. He unbuttoned Cas's shirt as far as it would go and continued to plant small, sloppy kisses all over his skin. By the time Dean finally stopped and returned to his lips, Castiel was throbbing in his pants.

 

“Dean, hurry.” He growled, impatiently. Dean smiled against his lips, letting out a chuckle. Dean's tongue pushed inside his mouth again, and Dean's wings touched the sides of the bed, holding up his torso as he reached down with his hands to undo his covering. As soon as it was there he threw it across the room, never once breaking away from the kiss.

 

Cas had to break away this time, knowing that all the panting wasn't good for his lungs right now. Dean didn't stay still for long, though, and he soon began to sink down, shoving Castiel's shirt up his torso roughly so that he could have access to his stomach. Castiel grabbed his own shirt and pulled it over his head, leaving himself exposed to Dean's expert tongue.

 

He licked and nibbled Cas's hip bones, and Cas gave a feeble thrust up. Cas's hands came up to grip at Dean's horns and Dean gave out a moan, pushing his head up into them. Castiel paused, memory flashing back to when Dean reacted similarly in the woods. He wondered if the horns were like the wings.

 

He gave them a squeeze, pumping as he would if he were beating Dean off. If the beautiful moan that left Dean's voice was any indication, Castiel was correct in his assumption.

 

He continued to move his hands as Dean then violently yanked his pants down, pausing briefly to slip his own covering off. He pulled his horns out of Castiel's reach for a moment before returning, and Castiel used them to yank Dean's head where he wanted it to be. Dean growled and looked up at him with eyes filled with a fiery hot lust.

 

“Harder.” He growled. Castiel saw how he was subtly pressing his cock against the bed, grinding against the wood. Cas pulled his horns again, and Dean's entire body jerked with a thrust of his hips. As soon as Dean was able to think again, he quickly sank his mouth down on Cas's swollen cock, moaning as Cas's grip on his horns tightened with the pleasure.

 

“Dean!” He called out, thrusting his hips up. He felt his cock hit the back of Dean's throat and Dean relaxed, slipping further down than Cas had thought possible. His tongue sucked on the underside of Cas's cock as Cas yanked at his horns, causing small gasps and moans that vibrated through him.

 

Dean pulled up, sucking on the tip lightly before he looked up at Cas. “I don't want to cum like this. I wanna be pressed up against you. I wanna hear you moan my name against my lips.” He growled, beginning to crawl up on the bed. Castiel gasped as Dean's warm dick pressed against his own, and his hips gave a sharp thrust.

 

“God, you're so beautiful. Sprawled out for me, mine to touch and taste.” Dean growled, moving his hips. Castiel let out another long moan, his own hips adapting to Dean's pace. Dean was rough and desperate, and Castiel needed that. He needed Dean to say things that he wouldn't, had he been thinking straight.

 

“God, I love you. I love you, Cas.” Dean blubbered, his hips snapping faster and faster against his lover's. Castiel realized then that his hands were still rubbing against the horns, and he squeezed harder, causing Dean's thrusts to stutter and his breath to hitch. “God, I love you, I love you, I _love you_.”

 

Castiel soaked up the words like a sponge. Dean said it over and over again, pouring from his mouth like praise. He wrapped a hand around his and Castiel's cocks, using his thumb to smear their precum together over both of their heads. Cas felt the familiar burn begin to rise in his stomach, but he viciously fought it off. He never wanted this moment with Dean to end, he never wanted to let go and let things back to the way they were. He wanted to scream that he loved Dean to at the top of his lungs, so the whole forest would hear.

 

He settled for softly whispering it, barely managing to get that out.

 

“Love you, love you.” Dean mumbled now, his hips stuttering. He cried out Castiel's name as he came, long hot spurts landing across both of their stomachs. Castiel came undone as he felt Dean's hard cock twitching and heard his name leave those perfect lips, his own release following shortly after. Small stars exploded through his body as he released, making him feel better than he had in days.

 

Once they were both done, Castiel cautiously released Dean's horns. Dean's lips immediately latched onto his own, Dean himself slowly lowering his body onto Cas's. Cas felt Dean's wings come to cover every part of his body that wasn't already there, keeping him warm.

 

Castiel let himself fall asleep like that, fully knowing that when he woke Dean would be gone.

~~~

It was a week before Castiel would next see Dean. Gabriel had taken care of him for the most part, and he was getting healthier and healthier. He could walk longer distances now, and Sam told Castiel that he was doing splendidly on the road to recovery.

 

Castiel was happy that he was getting better, but he also knew that it meant he would have to leave Dean when Meg came to get him; he had no hope of staying any longer. He didn't want to have to go, and end up never seeing the man that he loved again. He loved Meg too, of course, but it just wasn't the same.

 

Castiel knew he would have fun, adventuring with her. She was his best friend for quite awhile and continued to be prevalent in his thoughts. He would explore the world and they would have adventures and cause mayhem and sail across the oceans together. He wouldn't ever be bored, and his thoughts would stay far away from Dean, for the most part. But at night, when it was dark and he was lonely, he knew that the place in his chest would ache with the burn of lost love.

 

He didn't want to put himself through that if he didn't have to.

 

Sam walked into the house, smiling broadly at Cas as he entered the doorway. His presence brought Cas away from his thoughts, and back to the real world. He looked up and smiled at his friend.

 

“Sam, it's good to see you. How is everything going?” Castiel asked. Sam had been his only source of entertainment recently, so he learned to love their conversations.

 

Sam smiled broadly. “Good. Cas, I want you to walk down to the stream with me today. You need more exercise if you're going to get better in time to leave with your friend.”

 

Castiel felt his heart sink. His thoughts were pulled briefly back to his impending departure. He did find himself missing Meg, though, and he was excited for her to see him again. He was getting stronger and stronger every day, and soon he would be well enough to ride away from this place.

 

“Okay. The stream where the gnomes threw mud at us?” He asked, smiling. He reflected back on the memory fondly; thinking of the way Dean's green eyes had sparkled as he'd lobbed mud at the gnomes, laughing in merriment as Castiel joined in. Peaking over the large rock embedded in the ground, and quickly ducking to avoid getting hit. Castiel ending up drenched in mud from head to toe. Of course, things would be different this time. Dean would not be with them.

 

“Yes, if that's okay with you.” Sam clarified, smiling. Castiel felt a bitter-sweet smile stretch itself across his own face, and he worked to get his legs over the side of the bed.

 

His endurance was good. He walked about half of the way there without stopping, despite the persistent burn in his legs from a week and a half without use. He stretched them out while he walked, taking the pain in stride. He breathed in the scents of magic and greenery, looking up to the leaves, rich with colour. His eyes sparkled as he walked, enjoying the scenery of his childhood.

 

After a brief stop to sit on a fallen log, they were walking again. Castiel didn't know what to say or what to talk about with Sam, so they walked in a peaceful silence. Soon, Castiel began to hear the babbling of water joyously cascading over the bed of rocks, babbling incoherently as if the rest of nature knew exactly what it was talking about. Castiel smiled at the sound.

 

They came around the bend, and the creek came into his sight. He smiled as he saw the old rock that he and Dean had crouched behind, and a very small, very young mermaid that had wandered upstream sitting behind it. A group of small fae fluttered their wings behind her, sitting on rocks or soft beds of moss, while a few choice ones braided her hair. She looked like she was enjoying the attention.

 

Castiel's eyes roamed from there, to the moss patterns and gnomes throwing mud all over each other's clothes. He saw the dimmest spot of purple as the Moors realized that it was beginning to get late, and they would have to get dark soon. He saw the way the fae's magic reflected off the water as they drew with brilliant colours in the air, while they still had the daylight to do so. He saw and remembered all of these things; but what he saw the very last was what brought him the most satisfaction.

 

A mud ball went soaring through the air, landing right on a gnome's hat. Castiel's eyes traced back to the source, finding Dean standing, a mischievous smile on his face. He laughed out loud as the gnome he had knocked over pulled itself up and sent an angry glare his way. His eyes crinkled and his chest heaved, and Castiel could forget, for a moment, everything that had come to pass.

 

And then it all hit him again, like a blow to the stomach.

 

He turned to Sam, as quickly as he dared. The spinning still dizzied him. “What is he doing here?”

 

Sam's eyes flickered with something that looked dangerously like apology. Castiel felt vague anger heat up in his chest as he realized that this was a set up; unless Dean had noticed him here, he probably didn't know that it would be more than he and Sam, either. Sam had tricked Castiel and Dean both into coming here, in hopes that Dean would admit his folly and take Castiel back.

 

But Castiel felt like Sam was sticking his nose right in the middle of where it didn't belong, and it made him furious. He scrunched his nose up and glared at his supposed “friend”.

 

“What the fuck, Sam?” Dean called, having just then realized that Cas was there. Castiel turned to look at him. He was frozen up, teeth locked sharp against one another as panicked, black eyes stared at the two of them. His wings were fluffed up so that his feathers stuck out almost an inch from his body, despite his wings being folded tightly against his back.

 

“Hold on, I can explain.” Sam said, trying to appease his brother. Dean's jaw tightened and his arms moved to cross tightly over his chest as he adjusted his posture. He looked darkly at Castiel, as if this were somehow his fault. Castiel couldn't bare to hold a gaze filled with such resentment, and turned his eyes towards the sky, away from his love. His lips tightened into what could be described as a grimace.

 

“Go ahead, I'm waiting.” Dean said, after and awkward moment of silence. Castiel let his eyes fall back down to Dean only when he was certain that he wasn't glaring holes through his head anymore.

 

“Castiel needed fresh air. I didn't remember that I'd already invited you because of the tight schedule. You know how busy I am,” Sam pleaded, eyes desperate. “Besides, you'll have to spend some time with him soon, anyways. I need to leave for a few days to get more medical supplies and he has to exercise every day if he's going to be good enough to leave when he's supposed to. Gabriel is coming with me, so he's not even an option, before you say anything.”

 

Dean just stared at Sam, unblinking. Finally, he growled some curses under his breath, and plopped down on the moist ground.

 

As he wasn't paying attention, the gnomes stole away the opportunity. A big glob of mud went sailing through the air and hit Dean right on the head, leaving his hair caked in the sticky brown stuff. He raised a hand and brushed off what he could slowly, a look of disgust on his face.

 

Castiel couldn't help the chuckle that escaped then, smiling. Dean's head whipped towards the sound, and the smirk left his face immediately. Dean slowly raised his hand, still dripping with mud, and gave it a light flick. Castiel was confused about it until he felt something hard and wet plop straight down onto his head.

 

He gave Dean his best intimidation of Sam's bitchface, which caused Dean to bust into a chorus of chuckles. Castiel thought for a moment; would he be strong enough to retaliate? Well, he was certainly ready to take a load of dirt on the head; throwing one wouldn't be all that much harder.

 

He walked a couple of steps to the creek and bent down, picking up a large glob of mud. While Dean was still chuckling, he calmly walked over and dropped it straight onto his shoulder, looking at him purposefully as he did so. Dean stopped the ruckus and looked up, startled. His eyes narrowed in challenge, and Castiel slowly realized that this was probably a very, _very_ bad idea.

 

His leg was grabbed and yanked out from under him faster than he could keep up with. He braced for impact with the ground, but was pleaseantly surprised when large feathers wrapped around him inches above the ground, keeping him from crashing against the rocks. The feathers quickly pulled away and he realized that he was lying in what could basically count as a giant mud puddle; Dean's knees came to stradle his legs and Dean leaned forward, a smirk on his face.

 

He picked up a big chunk of mud in one of his hands and dropped it gleefully onto Castiel's chest. Sam started laughing, clutching as his sides, and Dean turned to smile at the younger man. Castiel saw his opportunity and took it, never one to let a chance like that fly by.

 

He quickly grabbed onto Dean's thighs and flipped them over, using all of his strength. His sickness and time without heavy use may have weakened him, but Castiel still knew more strategy to fighting than Dean ever would. His brothers and books had taught him all there was to know to the art of rough housing. It wasn't long until he had Dean's arms pinned above his body, hands pressing into the soft earth.

 

Castiel held Dean's hands where they were with one hand, moving the other to the side and collecting a large handful of mud. He let it seep through his fingers for a moment before he splattered it across Dean's chest, painting him like and artist would paint a canvas. Sam continued to laugh as Dean writhed underneath him, attempting to regain control of the situation.

 

Castiel became engrossed in the way it moved over his skin. He began shaping in earnest, attempting to cover the area in the stuff. Dean was bucking now, laughing as Castiel's fingers accidentally brushed over ticklish spots. Castiel let a small laugh escape him, and his grip loosened momentarily on Dean's hands.

 

That was all that Dean needed.

 

They were turned back over, and Castiel had no warning before Dean was tickling him senseless. Hands ran up along his body, clawing under his shirt and pressing cold and wet against sensitive skin. Castiel jerked and struggled and eventually gave up, loud and gripping laughter ringing from his mouth and through the trees. Dean continued to tickle after that, both of them covered in mud and laughing. A couple of the fae laughed along with them, the mermaid's giggle sending the fae braiding her hair into a fit of joy.

 

Finally Dean stopped, when he was certain that Castiel would not try to take over again. They both laughed a little more, letting it naturally trail off. Castiel gave a weak cough, but it didn't hurt like it had before. His lungs didn't burn with the need to gulp air as fast as he could. All in all, it was probably the most calm he had been in days.

 

Dean finally cut off, looking down at Castiel with love and affection shining in his bright green eyes. The only colour that wasn't now washed out in the grey of twilight was that brilliant, _vibrant_ green that Castiel loved so much. He felt his own eyes go soft and his body relaxed, knowing that he could trust the man above him. Knowing that Dean loved him.

 

He wasn't sure who started it; he knew only that both of them had been leaning in, and suddenly, their lips were touching. It was the soft slide of skin on skin and tongues tracing against lips, gentle and soft and pliant like everything else seemed. The chill of the mud barely registered through his too-hot skin as Dean pulled closer, tongue finally pushing into Castiel's mouth and mapping it out, familiar and warm and wet.

 

Castiel sighed contentedly as they lazily broke apart, a string of saliva connecting their lips. Dean kept looking at him like the long lost love he knew he was supposed to be, and for once, everything felt right in the world.

 

But it simply wasn't quite that easy.

 

Dean slowly came back to reality, eyes hardening and body growing taut as he realized what had just happened.

 

He stood up and his wings flapped, the massive burst of air knocking over several of the standing fae. He disappeared into the night faster than Castiel had ever seen before, and Castiel's heart went with him. He frowned, still staring at the sky long after Dean was gone.

 

He had had hope. Even if it was only for a glimpse of a moment, a glimmer of what could be had snuck past his defenses and into his heart. He had thought that maybe Dean had realized he was in love with Cas, even still.

 

Castiel was shivering, and a pitiful cough wracked its way through his body in protest of the cold. Sam sighed and offered him a hand, looking dejected. Castiel, not wanting to worry him, stood up on his own, but nodded his thanks for the offer.

 

Dean wouldn't ever view him as anything more than just a human.

~~~

A couple more days passed, and Sam refused to talk about what had happened. Castiel knew that he had set it up, and that he felt bad for things going to far wrong, but he also knew that Sam's heart was in a good place and he didn't need to talk about it to know Sam wouldn't try something that reckless again; he would still try, but not in a way that could hurt Cas as much as before.

 

Which was why, when Sam said that he had to leave, Castiel knew that he wasn't setting him up for anything this time.

 

“It's gonna be for three days. I need some more antibiotics for you, and for a little girl with an ear infection that won't go away. I wish there was something I could do about it but there's really not, Castiel.” Sam said. His eyes were wide and worried, pleading for Castiel to understand and not to think that he was intentionally trying to put him into an uncomfortable situation. “And I don't trust you to walk in the forest by yourself.”

 

“I'm hardly a child, Sam.” Castiel protested, frowning. “I'm a grown man who, even injured, was an even strength for you brother.”

 

“I know you're big and strong or whatever, but I don't think it would be a good idea. You're getting better really, really well and I don't want to risk that with leaving you and something bad happening. Dean's not all that happy about it either, but it will only be for a few days, and you'll only have to spend half an hour together, tops.”

 

“I- I'm still not happy about the circumstances.” Castiel said flatly, looking towards the ceiling, as he tended to do during intense conversation. “But I do understand it's what must be done.”

 

“Thank you, thank you so much Cas.” Sam said, backing out the door. He had to go as soon as possible; Gabriel had already made all of the necessary arrangements, and Castiel knew that the sick fae's ear wouldn't get any better in the mean time. He nodded at Sam as he backed entirely out the door, yelling, “Goodbye!”

 

“Goodbye.” He mumbled. He spoke fairly quietly, but he was certain that Sam had heard him.

~~~

Three hours later, he was pacing the floor up and down, listening to the creaking sound for no other reason than it calmed him. The air had cooled since Sam had left, but his outlook on the whole situation wasn't much better than it had been before. He was about to spend half an hour with someone that hated him, someone that he deeply cared about, who couldn't bear to have him in his sight.

 

There was the telltale flutter of wings outside, and Castiel slowly turned around. Dean cautiously went through the door, muscles tight and tensed. There were dark circles under his eyes and bruises on the sides of both of his arms; clearly from his perpetual habit of crossing them and then squeezing too hard. Castiel stared at the marks, unable to say anything for awhile.

 

“Are you ready to go walk?” Dean asked, flatly. His eyes dropped to the floor, instead of maintaining eye contact with Castiel. He shuffled his feet, awkwardly.

 

“I believe so, yes.” Castiel responded, stiffly. Before Dean had the chance to say anything else, he briskly walked forward, pushing past him and into the cold.

 

Rain was coming down, outside. He hadn't even really known that rain was possible in the moors. He had hoped that the soft pitter-patter would stop once Dean had come outside, but it didn't. After a few moments of cursing the drizzle, Castiel learned to take a new kind of wonder in it. The moors smelled vibrant and lively, and soft dewdrops gathered and ran off of leaves like small gemstones, precious and rare, but more temporary.

 

Dean came up beside him, and he couldn't help but be distracted by the warming presence. Dean was stark in contrast with the chill that the moors had adapted today. Dean's body radiated heat and it sang from his pores, falling over Castiel like a cascade. As much as he wanted to lean into that blessed heat, he kept his head. With how Dean had responded last time they touched, he wasn't going to risk it. Dean's feelings were worth more than that to him.

 

So, the silence was awkward. There was no comfortable humming, no blissful focus on the grass between his toes. All Castiel could think about was Dean; how he was right there, walking beside him, a tired and weary look etched into his features as if he was as old as time itself. Castiel couldn't imagine what he was thinking of, but he tried. Oh, he tried.

 

Maybe Dean was focusing on his father? Maybe he was thinking about how much he had let him down, kissing and even fucking one of the humans. Maybe he was loathing Castiel with all of his might, because he blamed him for the feelings nestled inside, whether good or bad they be. Castiel wondered if he was finding some kind of peace or solace in the thought that he would be gone in just a few days time, out of Dean's hair for good.

 

He frowned, not realizing that he had stopped walking until Dean turned towards him, unable to keep the flicker of concern out of his eyes. “Are you okay?”

 

“I've accepted my fate.” Castiel responded, lazily. Dean looked confused. Castiel didn't even realize what he had said until he said it, and then the rest of the words came tumbling out, all at once, without his permission, things that needed to be said along with things that didn't, “I know you don't love me. I hoped for a time, I really and truly did. I thought that maybe an inkling of what we had when we were younger may still reside in your heart. I honestly thought that maybe, when Meg came, we would have to turn her away without me nestled safely onto the back of her saddle.”

 

Castiel didn't know how to quit now; all of it was coming out, pouring out like the rain drizzling out of the sky. In fact, the rain began to pick up, big and fat drops scattering across the ground more and more frequently. Castiel didn't seem to really notice.

 

“I thought that we may be together, one day. I thought that you killing the king may have ended your prejudice against humans, once it finally sunk in that he was dead. I thought that if I just gave it time, you could realize that you still had affections for me as I did for you. I realize now that I was being foolish.

 

“I have accepted my fate. You don't have to worry about me trying to make any kind of a move on you. The kiss that happened the other day was probably my fault; and it was completely out of hand of me to do that to you. I apologize, Dean.”

 

Dean took a shaky, long breath. His face contorted into a look of pain, and he shook his head back and forth several times. It seemed as though he had something to say, but didn't know how to correctly phrase it. Finally, he let out a long sigh of frustration and tilted his head back, slowly going through everything. It was about thirty more seconds until his head dipped forward again, and he looked like he had his words placed where they ought to be.

 

“Have I ever told you why my dad hated humans so much?” Dean asked, letting the tension drain from his body. Castiel could tell he was tired; physically and emotionally. The weight on his shoulders had to have been great, and suddenly and inexplicably, Castiel felt a little bad for expecting him to take him back so quickly. After all, Castiel had never fancied himself important.

 

“It's been hinted at, but I've never heard the whole story. Would you like to tell me?” Castiel questioned, not wanting to push anything out of Dean that he didn't want to share. Dean looked a little bit relieved by that answer, and he nodded his head.

 

Castiel realized then that Dean needed to talk about it. Whatever had happened, it was still affecting him now and he needed an outlet for his emotions. Castiel was close and he was willing to listen, and Dean needed to speak. To truly be free, to begin to heal, Dean needed to get it all out. Castiel had never been more eager to listen.

 

With a wave of his hand, Dean made a wooden bench. Castiel and him both sat on either side, ignoring the rain for the time being. They sat there in silence for a little while, both reflecting on his own thoughts. Finally, the silence was broken.

 

“I remember the day it happened, you know.” Dean said. Castiel looked at him, for once forcing himself to maintain eye contact. Dean looked away this time, though, not wanting to really face everything. “Mom was crying into Dad's chest. Azazel, the king, was her friend. Or at least, she had thought that he was.”

 

Castiel's interest peaked. If Azazel was once a friend of the family, why had he turned? What had caused the broken shell of a family that was left to hate him even in his grave?

 

“You see, they had talked, in childhood. They were from the same town. They had been friends, played by the creek, they had eaten dinner at each other's houses before. She thought that he was nothing more than a friend, a good-natured one, at that. Their parents hadn't really approved of the friendship, but mom was never really one to listen to what other people thought.

 

“One day, he became the king. She was happy for him, because mom was happy for everyone who did anything. I can remember the first time I actually flew, she literally cried of joy. That kind of selflessness was something that couldn't have been faked. So, practically salivating with happiness over his achievements, she invited him into the moors, typically a fae-only kind of place. They laughed together, drank together, had a generally good time.

 

“Except, when he left, something went missing. He had taken Sam. Mom was absolutely heartbroken; she couldn't believe that a childhood friend, someone she had shown nothing but kindness to, would do something so cruel and uncalled for. She marched in to the palace and begged to have her son back, knowing that they would be too much to overpower her if it came right down to it.

 

“And he laughed in her face. He told her that when the fae kingdom was a part of his kingdom, he would let her have her son back. Sammy was treated like garbage there,” Dean's jaw tightened, and his breaths were coming faster as his eyes flickered violently between green and black.

 

“So, she offered a hostage trade. Her for Sam.” Dean said, giving a sharp intake of breath. His voice became softer now, less of a distant and enraging story and more of something that was deeply personal. “The day she went, I didn't know it was happening. All I know is that she shoved Sammy into my arms and told me to run back to dad, and that she'd be at the moors soon enough.”

 

“Her horns were hanging on the wall the next week.” He finally finished, body sagging as if the last bit of his energy had been used. Dean looked beaten and weary and upset. “Which is why you never trust a fucking human. All of them are ill-tempered sunuva bitches that lie and cheat and steal.”

 

“I can see where you would believe that.” Castiel said, softly. Honestly, he couldn't blame Dean for feeling the way that he did. Humans had taken his mother away from him, and , by taking his mother, they ripped apart any care that their father may have instilled. Dean's entire childhood; the struggles, no time for fun, even Castiel being ripped away from him-- that all came down to something a couple of lousy humans had done.

 

“But then, fuck Cas, you came along.” Dean said, raising his head. “You were everything other humans weren't. You're nice and not afraid to stand up for what's right, and Sammy saw the world in you when we were younger. Hell, I did, too.”

 

Castiel paused. He felt weary of where this was going, unsure of what Dean was trying to say. Was he... apologizing? For stereotyping Castiel, even when he had good reason?

 

“And you're so confusing, so damn confusing because you remind me of her. You help everyone, you want to please and want to help and that's not something I can handle hating. My dad would scream at me to stop. Hell, I don't even know what my mom would say about it, but I want you so damn bad. I want everything, Cas, I want-”

 

That was all Cas needed to hear to know where this was going. He cut Dean off by laying a hand gently on Dean's jaw, turning his face upwards, to look into Castiel's eyes. “Not all humans are evil, Dean. Human nature is distributed differently among different individuals.”

 

A small kiss landed on Dean's lips, light as a feather but holding the weight of Cas's words. “I can understand your reluctance, though. More now than I did before.”

 

“But you don't deserve that, Cas. I'm such a shitty person, you don't deserve to be with me. You shouldn't have to deal with my mood swings or my prejudice, or my... just, my general idiocy. You belong with that friend of yours, not with me. I don't fucking deserve you.”

 

Castiel felt a whit hot anger roar up, and he let out a growl. He stood up and turned, grabbing Dean's horns and using them to force him up. He whirled Dean around and shoved him up against the nearest tree, fire and passion and love flowing through his veins. His body followed, pressing up against Dean's, ignoring Dean's soft gasp. “You are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

 

Dean let out a small noise, hardening against Castiel's leg. Castiel ignored the sensation for the most part, needing to get out what he needed to say. He hoped that Dean was understanding what he was saying, but there was no guarantee with how dark and lusty his eyes were. “You are beautiful, Dean. You need to let things go and forgive yourself. Forgive yourself, because I've forgiven you. Because your brainwashed childhood doesn't define who you are, and you have healing to do, and you can't blame that on yourself. You are worth the world to me.”

 

Dean's legs went slack, his entire body relaxing as the words soaked in. Castiel saw the prickle of tears in his eyes, and he knew that Dean was grateful to him, grateful for making him see. Castiel could only hope that he was really taking his words to heart. “I would choose you over and over again, in a thousand different situations. You saved my life and continue to be a friend to me, even when you aren't acting like it. It's about time you give yourself credit where credit is due.”

 

“Cas, I-” Castiel silenced his words with another hot kiss, subtly adjusting their bodies so that Dean's hardness was pressed up against his crotch. He felt the hardness and warmth and soon found himself beginning to be affected, shaft elongating in its confines.

 

They broke apart sloppily, and Dean smiled, although he was panting. There was a certain glint in his eyes that let Castiel know that this wasn't going to be like the other times; this was going to be far more intimate.

 

He kissed Dean again, his thoughts and feelings getting all knotted up and tangled until finally they just faded, leaving his mind blissfully clear of nothing but a cloudy lust and Dean Winchester. He shoved his tongue into Dean's mouth, firmly taking control of the situation. Dean willingly submitted, moaning out as Cas's hands grabbed onto his hips and pulled him away from the tree, effectively manhandling him.

 

“Oh, _god_ ,” Dean panted, as they broke away. His eyes were the most vibrant green Castiel had ever seen them; vibrant even more for how little color was actually showing. His pupils were blown out to what seemed like twice their usual size, and Castiel figured his looked the same.

 

Castiel slowly began a soft grind against Dean, returning their lips together so that they could moan into each other's mouths, sharing breath and space and soul and _life_ as their bodies moved, saying things that neither would dare to say aloud at this moment.

 

The way their rhythms synched screamed out _'We belong together';_ the way their fingers caught in each other's hair was a promise of, ' _I never want to let go'._ The slide of wet and sensitive lips against each other promised, _'The taste of you is the sweetest thing to me'_ , and the long, breathy sighs were, _'You mean everything to me'._ Perhaps most prominent was the way their bodies curled around each other, Dean's wings automatically moving to create a shelter as Cas's hips canted forward, that said, _'I love you'_.

 

Castiel and Dean eventually felt themselves falling to their knees, slowly, stopping at intervals to kiss and touch, breathing each other in like air. Castiel broke from the kiss first, noticing the cool leaves on his knees and the water soaking through his pants. He ignored the dewdrops, shoving Dean backwards.

 

He took a moment to admire his lover like that. He was shirtless as always, his long and glistening body spread out before Castiel like the most tempting of palates. His eyes were darkened and his lips kiss-swollen, his erection pushing up his cloth covering proudly as it continued to curve towards his stomach. His grand wings were spread out to either side of him, taking up a good seven feet to either side in their current, fluffed-up state.

 

Castiel wasted no more time, surging forward and attaching his lips to Dean's neck. He sucked hungrily, greedy in hearing all of Dean's small moans and gasps, always wanting to savour more. When he was done sucking several bruises into Dean's neck he moved down, planting hot and wet kisses down Dean's abdomen, slowly worshiping his body for everything that it was.

 

Castiel eventually got to the point where he could no longer ignore the hardness just under Dean's cloth, and he slowly began to undue the knot, making it a point to go as slowly as possible. He looked up at Dean, making eye contact as he finally got it loose and carelessly tossed it aside, still looking into the emerald green.

 

“Cas, god, stop being a tease.” Dean groaned, tilting his head back to break eye contact. It was all too intense, and Cas hadn't even _really_ done anything yet. Castiel knew that Dean wanted him inside of him; and as quickly as possible. It gave him some kind of a twisted satisfaction knowing that he could make Dean so wanting, so needy and vulnerable. Partially because he knew he was the only one Dean would trust enough to allow to take him.

 

“Fine. Do you have any lube?” Castiel asked, his voice coming out in a seductive timbre. Dean nodded his head, and with a wave of his hand, materialized a small container of thick, sweet-smelling oil. Castiel made quick work of wetting his fingers, making sure they were entirely covered before gently setting the jar down. He leaned forward and shoved Dean's knees apart, making room for him to lean on one elbow between them.

 

Castiel slowly circled Dean's entrance with one finger, trying to get him used to the sensation. Dean took long, shallow breaths, and slowly let his body relax. As Castiel pushed the finger in, up to the first knuckle, he wrapped his lips around the head of Dean's cock.

 

Dean's hips bucked up and his body shuddered, responding beautifully to the stimuli. He slowly relaxed again as Castiel began to lightly suck on his sensitive head, and Castiel's finger slid all the way in. Dean seemed to take no notice as he let out long and breathy moans, mostly just Cas's name sang like praise from his lips or requests for Cas to take more and go faster. Castiel sunk down an extra inch as he put in the second finger, knowing that with this one came the burning stretch.

 

Dean's breath hitched, but he took it in stride. Soon he was writhing and moaning under Castiel, three fingers buried deep inside him. Castiel brushed up against something and his hips bucked violently, his voice raising into a cry of pleasure. His eyes glazed over as he sat up to his elbows, all but forcing Castiel to withdraw.

 

“Fuck me right now. No more damn prep. I'm ready.” He promised. Castiel licked his lips at the words, feeling his cock give a dull throb. His hands quickly fell to his pants, slipping them off and throwing them haphazardly aside, much like Dean's covering. He reached for the container of lube, but Dean's voice rang again, “Not just the pants. I want to see all of you.”

 

Castiel was more than happy to comply, taking only a moment to yank off his shirt. He didn't see all what difference it made, but he was more than happy to do anything Dean asked at that moment.

 

Once he was entirely barren, he grabbed the oil and slicked up his dick, moaning at the feeling of his hand wrapping around himself briefly. He slid forward once he was done, grabbing Dean's hips and slowly guiding him upwards, so that he could achieve the right angle.

 

His hands moved to Dean's legs, and he slowly pushed himself in, until he was entirely seated in Dean's warmth and heat. The pleasure and sensation were absolutely dizzying; he was only able to keep himself still because he was reminded by Dean's sharp gasp. He breathed slowly for a few seconds, getting a hold on himself.

 

He wrapped his hand around Dean's cock and gave a few pumps, making sure that he stayed hard. Dean slowly relaxed, breathing heavily. After a few moments he began to rock his hips back and forth, signaling to Castiel that he was ready. Castiel set a slow and steady pace, beginning to rock in and out of Dean.

 

He groaned, desperately willing himself to make this last as long as it could. His hands moved from Dean's legs and Dean tightened his knees on Castiel's ribs, keeping them there. Castiel's hands fell forward, one tangling in the feathers of Dean's wing and one pressing into Dean's arm, gripping him tightly as he rocked in and out.

 

Dean let out a startled moan, arching off the ground. Castiel quickly adjusted his angle, knowing from experience what that reaction meant. This time, when he began to thrust, Dean's hips eagerly met his, Dean's lips searching his out in a tangled, heated embrace. Castiel had never felt more absolutely consumed by anything before in his life; his body and soul and mind in that moment, every part of him belonged to Dean and Dean alone.

 

He felt something building. A burning sensation in the pit of his stomach led him to believe that he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer, given the heat and the sweat and Dean's broken moans of his name, hearing his own moans return, almost not fully believing that they came from him. His hand in Dean's wing began to shift and knead in the feathers, causing Dean to quake even more than before.

 

Suddenly, he was hit with a blinding hot pleasure. It curled up from his toes, through his body, then back down again before pooling in his dick as he shot out white hot streams of cum into Dean. He saw Dean's cock give a twitch, and Dean was cumming, calling out Castiel's name as a brilliantly white light illuminated from where Cas's hand had it's grip on Dean's shoulder.

 

Castiel, as he felt the last of the waves go through him, pulled out of Dean. He slowly moved his hand, sated but still finding the energy to be curious as to what had just happened. After all, it could have just been his own delusion, couldn't it? A blinding white light at the moment of orgasm sounded like something that would be vaguely normal to imagine...

 

Any doubt he had as to whether or not it had really happened vanished. There, where his hand had lain, was a large red blotch in the shape of his fingers and palm. His hand print, branded into Dean's skin. He worried that he had hurt Dean for a moment.

 

He glanced over to see that this was not the case. Dean was laying lazily out, wings relaxed and body slowly draining of tension as he came down from his orgasmic high. He gave a soft sigh, and Castiel thought that he had never seen Dean's face more peaceful than it was in that moment. He could ask about the hand print now, and risk ruining Dean's happy and relaxed mood, or he could let Dean tell him what the significance was when they were less exhausted. (Because he did feel that there was significance; there _had_ to be in something like that).

 

He decided to go for option numbed two and collapsed beside Dean, taking mind not to fall on the actual bone of his wing.

 

Dean shifted closer to him and wrapped his arms around Castiel. With all of the time they had burned, and energy to boot, they were both feeling absolutely exhausted. Castiel closed his eyes, all worry and doubt draining away in Dean's warm and comforting embrace.

 

He fell asleep with the soft caress of feathers and warm skin.

~~~

When they next woke, the sun was setting on the horizon.

 

Castiel rose first, sad to leave Dean's warmth but knowing that they should probably walk back to the house. He wanted to ask Dean about the hand print, ask what the meaning was, but he didn't know if it was an appropriate time. He wanted to let Dean adjust and calm down, and he wanted to ask him in a more secure environment. So, he decided that any questions he had would have to wait, at the very least until they were back at the cottage.

 

“Dean.” Castiel mumbled, prodding him. Dean groaned a little and turned over, one of his arms coming up to lay on top of his ear. Castiel smiled a little, pushing him more. “I know you can still hear me. We should walk back to the cabin.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm up.” Dean grunted, sitting up straight. He took a few minutes to stretch his body, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was still naked. He rubbed his face, trying to wake up, before letting out a wide yawn. “Good morning.”

 

“It's almost night time, Dean.” Castiel reminded him, vaguely amused. Dean rolled his eyes at the unnecessary reminder and stood up, letting out a small grunt as he did. He offered a hand to Castiel, who graciously took it and was pulled up into the strong arms of his fae.

 

“You should find your clothes if you're planning on actually getting home anytime soon.” Dean advised, his eyes trailing downwards over Castiel's expanse of skin. Castiel repressed a shiver that tried to rake itself through his body; he couldn't and wouldn't let himself get distracted again right now, he needed to get back home. He was hungry and slightly damp and he needed a warm blanket, which he had at home now, courtesy of Sam.

 

Castiel bent over and picked up a pair of shorts off the ground, slipping them on. He looked around for a few moments before he located his loose white shirt and threw it over his head, grabbing his underwear and simply tucking those into his pocket. He looked back to see Dean tying his cloth around his waist, and a small smile caused his lip to twitch upwards.

 

“Are you ready to go now?” He questioned. He couldn't believe the elation that was running through his veins. Dean loved him, even if he didn't quite know how to show it sometimes. Castiel could make it through any kind of setbacks or drawbacks that there may be, as long as he knew that. Dean would have reservations and doubts, but Castiel was willing to give everything to work it all out. Dean had been and always would be a priority in Cas's life, a priority for Cas. Dean was special.

 

“Yeah.” Dean said, nodding his head.

 

They walked back to the cabin quickly, taking long steps and not wasting any time looking at the scenery. Dean's hand brushed upon the scar at one point and he froze, looking at it in utter disbelief. Castiel didn't say anything, just watched as his face went through at least a dozen emotions.

 

Dean eventually settled his face back into neutral and kept walking, not mentioning anything to Castiel. Castiel kept silent, deciding that it may be better to just not ask Dean that night.

 

They got back, Dean kissed Castiel, and he flew away.

 

Castiel sighed as he watched him go. There was still some progress to be made, even if today was a landmark.

~~~

The next day, Castiel awoke to the smell of something delicious. The scents of apples and cinnamon and warm, flaky crust drifted over and surrounded him, rousing him from his sleep-coma. He sat up straight, eyes opening in curiosity.

 

Dean was sitting at the table with a fresh pie in front of him, smiling sheepishly.

 

Castiel's feet hit the floor before he even registered what was happening. He walked slowly over to the table, uncertain how to cope with this strange turn of events. Dean seemed both tense and hopeful as he watched Castiel. Their eyes never left each other as he approached the table, blue and green sufficiently testing who would cave first.

 

Dean finally looked away, coughing awkwardly. Castiel felt a weight he hadn't realized was there lift off his chest, and he took a deep breath. Dean's whole body turned briefly away before he turned back, and he had a sincere look on his face. It was clear he was uncomfortable, but he was trying.

 

“I, uh, made you a pie. I didn't use magic, like you told me when we were kids. I don't know if it's any good because frankly I'm shit at stuff like this, but-”

 

“It smells delicious. Thank you.” Castiel responded, nodding. Dean nodded in return and sat down at the table, plopping himself down into a chair.

 

“Would you like me to cut you a piece?” He offered. Castiel quickly followed Dean's suit and sat down in the chair across from him, crossing his ankles and waiting as Dean fumbled with the pie cutter. Dean eventually managed to set two large slices of apple pie onto plates, and he grabbed his own, pushing the other to Castiel. Castiel grabbed it and pulled it the rest of the way over, savoring the smell.

 

“What's this about?” He asked, taking a bite. It tasted tart, (apples were a tad out of season still and Dean hadn't used magic to grow them), but was overall a very good pie. He knew that Dean had to be getting at something with this, though. He knew that Dean had something he was trying to say, in his own way. Castiel felt more than inclined to listen.

 

“Well, I, uh...” Dean trailed off. He took another bite of his own and his wings fluffed up like they do when he's nervous, making them look a little bigger than they actually were. “I was hoping we could sort of start over? I mean, it's just us here for the week. We could get to know each other again, and just... talk. I mean, I don't want to sound like a girl, but I really missed you.”

 

“So you want to start fresh? You do intend to have relations with me?” Castiel clarified. He could basically draw his own conclusions at this point, but he had to make sure. Dean could be unpredictable sometimes, he could be hard to communicate with. He could say one thing and mean another, and Castiel wasn't very good with communication in the first place. He didn't want to embarrass himself by misinterpreting something.

 

“Well you just jump straight to the point, don't you?” Dean asked, laughing a little bit. Castiel's brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“Yes, that tends to happen. What else would I do?” Castiel asked.

 

“There's this little thing called subtlety, Cas.” Dean said, looking vaguely frustrated. Castiel's stomach sunk. He'd done it again; his lack of social skills had made someone uncomfortable.

 

“I'm sorry.” He said. Dean shook his head.

 

“No, it's fine, Cas. It's just-” Dean paused. “It makes me realize even more that I fucked up when you do cute stuff like that.”

 

Castiel felt his face redden, and he stopped eating. He swallowed his bite, glancing up to look Dean in the eyes. Dean's face was honest and his eyes were glazed over with affection as he looked Castiel up and down, love and care radiating from his every pore.

 

“You find my lack of social graces... _cute_?” Castiel questioned. Dean reddened a bit this time, breaking eye contact with Castiel as he struggled to collect his answer.

 

“Well, yeah. Honestly, I find a lot of the stuff you do cute. You do that head tilt thing whenever you ask me a question, and that's cute. You walk sort of awkward, like you aren't used to it still, and that's cute. The moans you make while I'm inside of you, that's weirdly, arousingly cute. Yeah, I think you're cute.” Dean admitted. He cleared his throat, eyes meeting Castiel's again. “And if you ever tell Sam I said something so girly, I will kill you.”

 

“That's fine, your secret is safe with me.” Castiel said, letting the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. Dean had just reassured him immensely. He'd been self-conscious of his social impairments for some time, but... Dean just, brushed it off. Dean pretended like it was no big deal, and Castiel couldn't help but be happy for that.

 

There was a small pause in conversation.

 

Castiel stared at the hand print on Dean's arm, and he felt the tug of significance yet again. He knew that it was important, and curiosity burned at the edge of his mind. He wanted to ask Dean why it was there, what had happened, what it meant, was it permanent- he had a million questions for which he wanted answers. He just.... felt like now wasn't the right time to ask. And he trusted Dean, trusted him with his life, so Castiel would wait until Dean mentioned it. After all, he would eventually mention it, right?

 

Dean cleared his throat, pulling Cas out of his thoughts. “Hey, do you want to go to the stream after this? I believe I have a mermaid to apologize to.”

 

“Why?”

 

“She got a little frightened by my outburst the other night. She told Sam that she wanted to see you again, though. You care to come?” Dean asked.

 

“I think I would enjoy that.” Castiel said, nodding his head.

~~~

Over the next few days, Castiel and Dean rekindled their love. The flame that had still been there after all of those years ignited and sparked upwards, expanding into a raging bonfire of emotion and love and forgiveness and the promise of something beautiful.

 

They wrestled in the mud, acting like children as the mermaid giggled. They talked and acted silly and Dean scooped Cas into his arms and took him flying, sailing through the sky as they had done while they were children. Castiel thought that the taste of Dean absolutely exploded on his tongue when it was mingled with the chill of the air and the dew from the clouds. The adrenaline and rush and Dean never failed to make the experience wonderful-- the green of the moors seemed never ending.

 

They explored the place. Being magic, the moors were in a state of constant change and growth. Where there had been nothing one day there would be something the next- sometimes something exciting or interesting. Castiel and Dean snuck off into caves and explored the darkest parts, (though that sometimes lead to tongues and lips and skin and moans, feeding off of each other in the darkness) they climbed mountains and scoped valleys. They explored and learned and did as they pleased. Everything was new and exciting and it all felt so damn right. Neither of them had ever felt this kind of love before.

 

And at night- every night- they worshiped each other's skin.

 

Castiel's hand would close over the hand print, and Dean would lose all control. He'd come long and hard, buried deep inside of Castiel, or occasionally with Castiel inside of him. Castiel loved the burning hot connection he felt whenever he looked at the print- the possessive curl of pleasure as he knew that it marked Dean as his.

 

For how long, or what exactly that meant, he couldn't be sure.

 

Castiel had tried to ask him, he had. He'd wanted to, and he'd battled his curiosities to the point of no return again and again. He needed to know, the want burned under his skin, but he didn't want to ruin the moment, ruin something special. He thought that Dean would tell him, if it was important. Dean would tell him what it meant, eventually. He just had to trust Dean to tell him when the time was right.

 

And so, those days alone became the rekindling of their fire. Their passion and love burned bright...

~~~

The day Sam was to return Dean got there early, ruffling out his feathers and knocking on the door. Castiel smiled to himself; he had already been up for a few hours, so he had been eagerly awaiting Dean's arrival. He'd expected him before then, but knew that Dean might have been busy, helping some of the fae.

 

He opened the door and smiled, dazzlingly.

 

Dean looked nervous. Like, schoolboy, I-forgot-to-do-my-homework-for-the-class-with-the-bitchy-teacher nervous. Castiel stepped aside and made way for Dean to come in, confusion radiating through him.

 

“What's wrong?” He questioned. Dean flinched, turning around to look at Cas again. His left hand came up to self-consciously wrap around the hand print, and his face stretched into an almost painfully awkward smile. Castiel felt something click in his brain; this had something to do with the print. “Dean.”

 

“There's something I didn't tell you these last few days.” Dean said, sheepishly. Castiel nodded his head, a small frown appearing on his face. “I, uh, it's about the thing that happened, when you were, well... you know what was happening...”

 

“Dean, tell me.” Castiel pushed. Dean blushed a little and took a shaky breath, steeling himself. He opened his mouth to finally reveal what Castiel had been wondering,-

 

“Dean, Cas!” Came from behind them. Castiel turned around to see Sam strolling towards them, Gabriel by his side.

 

“Sam, you're back.” Castiel greeted, opening his arms for a hug. Sam walked right into it, setting his chin on top of Castiel's head and pulling him close. Castiel openly leaned into the embrace; although he was upset about his talk with Dean being interrupted, he had missed Sam a lot.

 

Sam pulled back and smiled at him a moment before he looked to Dean, eyebrows immediately drawing together in confusion as he saw that Dean wasn't buzzing with joy like he had expected. Dean gave a sigh that Castiel could hear from where he stood.

 

“Hey, do you think you could give me a few minutes with Cas, there's something I have to explain-”

 

Gabriel's voice broke the silence, disbelief and absolute astonishment lacing his words, “Holy shit on a stick, you two are fucking _bonded._ ”

 

“That's what I was trying to explain to him, if you two would kindly get the fuck out,” Dean growled, glowering at Gabriel. Sam stared in shock at the hand print on Dean's body, and Castiel could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He glanced several times back and forth between Castiel and Dean, a broad smile breaking across his face as he did.

 

“You guys are soul mates and you didn't tell him immediately? Dude, that's-” Sam was abruptly cut off by Dean pushing him out the door, loudly yelling at him about 'privacy' and 'letting him break the news himself', while Gabriel hovered (literally, a couple of feet off the ground) next to the table.

 

Soul mates? Castiel couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea that had been thrust before him. He and Dean seemed to fit together perfectly- they had overcome many obstacles and crashed their way through countless barriers, but soul mates? Castiel didn't even know if he believed in such nonsense, let alone could apply the term to himself. But if that was truly what the hand print meant- if he and Dean had been chosen to be together, souls seeking each other out since the beginning of eternity and for all time, well, who was he to deny?

 

“You're gonna need this.” Gabriel mumbled into his ear. Castiel jumped at his sudden close proximity, barely noticing when a small piece of candy was slipped into his hand. He nodded his thanks to Gabriel and the Raven winked at him, sauntering out the door. As he went, he grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him along, finally giving him the final push out of the house.

 

“We'll be back in an hour. You'd better have everything explained by then, he needs to know!” Gabriel shouted, dragging Sam along. Dean let out a frustrated sigh and slammed the door, causing the wood to quake on it's hinges.

 

“I'm sorry about that.” Dean said, after a pause. His hand went self-consciously to the hand print, yet again, and Castiel found that he could no longer tear his eyes away.

 

“Is it true? What they said?” he questioned. Dean nodded his head, the motion breaking Castiel's trance-like infatuation with the mark. He frowned and raised a hand, running his fingers through his hair.

 

“It is true, yes.” He confirmed again. “It's something that happens to fae as strong as I am. When two fae- or at least, I had always assumed- meet and accept each other as mates, fully, no walls or halts or fears, then sometimes, something like this happens. As far as we can tell in our culture, yeah, it's basically a soul mate mark. Not everyone has one, though.”

 

Castiel blinked. “Are you okay with this?”

 

“Of course I'm okay with it, Cas. I want to spend the rest of my damn life with you. It's just hard for me to acknowledge something like that, you know?” Dean questioned, giving off a heavy sigh. Castiel nodded in understanding. “I just don't like to think of anything as permanent, and this? This is the very _definition_ of permanent.”

 

“I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I obviously harbored no intentions to trap you into something with which you weren't comfortable.” Castiel said, flatly.

 

“No, no, no, Cas, please don't take this that way. I'm happy, I really, really am. It's just gonna take some getting used to, okay? For one thing, as long as nobody who's going to try and take our land comes into control, then I'm all set to live more or less, literally forever. I'll stop aging soon. Compared to you? You'll be gone in the blink of an eye.” Dean explained, sighing.

 

“We'll talk to Sam about it. He's the medical expert.” Castiel told him, nodding. “For now, is there anything else that I'll need to know?”

 

Dean's face slowly turned into a mischievous grin, and he scooted a little closer to Castiel. No matter how short a time it had been since they'd last tangled limbs spread across the small bed, Castiel still felt his breath catch and his heart pump, his body beginning to ache for Dean's once more.

 

“Well, did you know that both of us can cum, from just you laying your hand over the mark?” Dean purred. Castiel's dick gave an interested twitch at the words, and he swallowed thickly. This was a serious matter; he didn't want to get sidetracked right now.

 

“Oh? We'll have to try that out sometime.” Castiel said, trying to ignore how dry his mouth felt. Dean let out a laugh at his response, scooting away when he realized that Castiel wasn't going to give into his temptation right now. And oh, it wasn't because Castiel wasn't tempted. Castiel wanted right then to take it all back and straddle Dean's hips, grinding their half-hard cocks together as he placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, to test the theory-

 

The door slammed open again, and Gabriel strolled inside.

 

“You guys said you were going to be gone an hour!” Dean complained, glaring at him.

 

“Five minutes, an hour, what's the difference?” Gabriel teased, swaying his hips as he came further in. Castiel smiled as he watched Sam sheepishly tuck his head in the door, following his boyfriend. Oh yeah, if there was the definition of the word 'whipped' in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Sam Winchester standing next to Gabriel to help define it.

 

“Get out, Edgar Allan Poe.” Dean spat. Castiel smiled at the literary reference, knowing that it had most likely come from Sam. What delighted him even more, however, was Gabriel's response.

 

“Nevermore!” He declared triumphantly, dodging a pear that Dean had thrown at his head. Castiel laughed a bit.

 

Hey, maybe things were hard right now, and maybe Dean would have trouble adjusting. But he meant everything to Castiel, and Castiel knew that he meant everything to Dean.

 

In the end, isn't that what really matters?

~~~

The end of the week rolled around. Sam was prodding Dean about something, and Castiel didn't know what it was. All he knew was that they had to meet Meg outside the forest in just a couple of hours, and tell her goodbye permanently. The thought both saddened and excited him, more than anything he wished that he could have some sort of guarantee that he would see her again after this.

 

“Come on. We will never know if we don't look in the damn thing. This is what Dad would have wanted if it would have kept you happy.” Sam reasoned, speaking in a low tone. Dean's sharp intake of breath went to give the impression that they had had this conversation before, and it had always ended the same.

 

“Dude, I'm not doing that. Whatever you think is in there, is obviously not in there. And I'm not going to be looking into the journal of a dead man, I'm not. I'm not some disrespectful idiot with a secret to uncover; if there is a way, we'll find it on our own, without looking.” Dean growled, crossing his arms across his chest. Castiel cleared his throat, causing Dean to whip back towards him.

 

“You ready to go?” Dean asked, immediately changing the subject. A part of Castiel wanted to jump on the small conversation now and demand he be told what they were discussing, but unfortunately, he knew that they would be late if they did. So, instead, he nodded his head.

 

They waved Sam and Gabriel goodbye, and Dean put an arm around them while they walked, pulling him close as they walked side by side. Both of them let out a pleasant shudder as their shoulders brushed up against one another, Castiel's skin pressing briefly against the hand print. Of course, that brush was nothing compared to the intensity that zinged through both of them as soon as Castiel placed his palm there, though.

 

They still hadn't tried achieving orgasm through touch of the hand alone, yet, but Castiel had high hopes for the future and plans to shove Dean up against a tree and make him squirm.

 

It wasn't all that long until they were at the end of the forest, Castiel's new-found strength coming in handy, as it allowed him to walk much faster than usual. He smiled as he ducked around some branches, playfully quickening his stride ahead of Dean's.

 

Dean's arms came to rest around his stomach, and he felt his feet leave the ground.

 

“Dean, put me down.” Castiel warned, squirming. He moved his body all around, hoping that he would get loose or Dean would drop him. Dean managed to walk a couple more steps before the former of the two happened, Castiel landing on the ground with a solid thud and smiling at Dean triumphantly as he did so. No, Castiel was usually a lot more serious. But right now? He wanted playful touches and a new hickey on his neck before he came home to Sam and Gabe.

 

The wall parted as they arrived, used now to just responding to Castiel's presence. He waited a few moments warily before stepping outside, Dean following closely behind. He was hyper-aware of Dean's hand on his back, a warm and comforting sensation to his unease at being out of the moors again.

 

It wasn't that he didn't like the real world; the real world was still where his home would forever reside. His mother, his town, his little book shop that angry people had probably burned down, all of those were products of things untouched by the magic he had come to love. But that didn't mean he wasn't still nervous. Last time he was in these fields, last time he came out of those walls, a farmer tried to get him killed. And, more importantly, almost succeeded.

 

“You know, now is your last opportunity to change your mind.” Dean said, as though thoughtfully. He didn't sound angry or resigned, but rather thoughtful.

 

“Why do you say that?” Castiel questioned, frowning. He thought he had already shown Dean that he would choose him, a thousand times over and in a million different ways.

 

“I say that because I know you, Cas,” Dean sighed, looking towards the sunset. A horse galloped just barely into Castiel's range of sight, and he knew that it was Meg. “I know that you'll get bored in these little moors, with me. You could go with her right now and adventure and travel the world, see new places, explore the vast oceans and bottomless caves. You could make discoveries and read when you want to and _live_. I know you, and no matter how much you want to pretend like that's not the case, I know that's what you want. You want to go, and be free. I just... I don't want to be the reason you tie yourself down.”

 

“Who said anything about tying myself down?” Castiel asked, stubbornly. “You say all that like I can't have those things with you. I would choose adventure and a fulfilling life of helping people any day, but unless you're going to force me to choose, I'd like to think you can be there with me. Sam leaves the moors all the time, you can too, for a little while. Not everything has to be one or the other. In between you and the universe, why would I pick when I could have both?”

 

Dean's breath caught in his throat at that, and his free hand rose to rub his face. He shook his head several times, clearing his throat. “You really want me there with you? Despite the fact that when we go to China, I'm totally going to shove chopsticks up my nose and pretend to be a Walrus?”

 

“I want you there specifically for that reason.” Castiel deadpans back, nodding.

 

Meg stopped then, her horse coming to rest just six feet away from them. Castiel and Dean both coughed at the resulting cloud of dust, waving their hands frantically as they took a step apart, breaking contact.

 

“Get on loser, we're going exploring.” She teased, smiling at Castiel. The dust settled down somewhat and Castiel opened his previously closed eyes, his eyebrows raising. She scanned his form, smirking to herself as her eyes traveled across his neck. They flickered back to Dean and she leaned back, looking smug. “Unless, of course, those bruises on your neck are what I think they are. Did I call it, Clarence? Are you staying with lover boy here?”

 

Castiel felt his face redden, and he nodded his head. “I'm willing to forgive your crude way of asking, but yes. We worked everything out between us.”

 

“Then I guess this is really it?” Meg asked, frowning a bit. The horse clomped it's feet impatiently; it was clearly an animal that was used to traveling long distances for long periods of time. It was black as midnight, and Castiel's eyes shifted up to Meg's hair, which was the same shade. He noticed two small points, and he tilted his head curiously, before he could help himself.

 

“I suppose, unless we meet again.” Castiel said, still unable to tear his eyes away from the new addition to Meg's persona. She shifted her head forward and her hair fell forward, exposing the beginnings of two small horns.

 

“Diggin the new do?” She teased him, flipping her hair back up when he didn't respond. “Now that I'm gonna be going some places that are a little more friendly towards our kind, I'm gonna let them grow out. They were a pain in the ass to file down, and once they're fully grown I should have enough power to hide them in any kind of a sticky situation.”

 

“They're different. Do you know what shape they'll presume?” He questioned. She shrugged, smiling. Castiel felt a little something bittersweet as Dean nudged his arm, reminding him that they did eventually have to get back to Sam and Gabriel. They couldn't stay and chit chat forever.

 

“Well, Clarence, I'm gonna miss you.” She said, sincerely. Her leg swung over the horse and her feet hit the ground. She immediately threw her arms around Castiel's neck and pulled him close, her body curving around his in a way that made Dean give a soft growl beside him. Meg rolled her eyes in response. “Relax, I'm not gonna take him from you now.”

 

“I'll miss you, too. Will you come to visit, sometime?” He asked, taking a step back from the embrace and putting a couple of inches of space between them.

 

“Of course. And hey, if you're ever out and about, you should see if you can try to find me.” Meg teased, smiling. “I'll be the one with the badass horns only fae can see and wings hidden underneath baggy clothes because I'm too lazy to enchant them invisible.” She teased. Castiel felt another rush of warmth for her.

 

“So, this isn't goodbye. Just, goodbye for now.” He clarifies. Meg shook her head yes, smiling at him.

 

“See you around, Clarence.” She says, with gusto. She climbed back onto the horse with a swift leg thrown over, never being one to have to ask for help. She reached into the back of her saddle bag and dug around a bit, hands groping at something invisible. Castiel wondered what she was doing for a moment before she dug it out of her bag triumphantly, dusting off the cover.

 

Castiel caught it with ease, despite the fact that he hadn't been warned he would have to catch anything. He glared at the cover, squinting his eyes. He smiled as he read it; it was the last reccomendation he had made to Meg, before she slipped out of his window. Those three weeks felt like a lifetime ago, and this a forgotten treasure from his childhood. His smile couldn't get any wider.

 

“I thought you might want to have that. Just in case you get bored of Mr. Grumpy.” Meg said. Dean let out a warning growl and his feathers fluffed up. He'd had just about enough of the insults.

 

When Castiel's eyes next left the cover of the book, Meg's horse had taken off and a thick cloud of dirt was settling back down upon the earth. He coughed and struggled to catch his breath again, but it came easy enough.

 

He watched until she was just a distant point on the horizon, her colours blending and swirling with the tangy oranges and smooth pinks of the sun. He felt in his gut that they would meet again some day; this was not the last he would see of his friend, nor the last she would see of him. Even if their travels didn't cross, Meg would be back to visit, and would have no problems waiting for them to get back.

 

“Come on.” Dean insisted, when they could no longer see her. A wet, sloppy kiss was placed on his temple. “Let's go home.”

~~~

The door clicked shut behind them and Sam jumped, turning around sharply and moving his hands behind him in the same quick move. He stiffened up as he looked at Dean and Cas, expression probably akin to that of a child who's parents had just walked in on them with a hand in the cookie jar. His entire body was tense and rigid as he forced a smile.

 

“Hey.” He greeted, clearing his throat. Dean's eyes narrowed. “You two, uh, weren't supposed to be home for awhile.”

 

“What are you doing?” Dean demanded, gruffly. Sam flinched at his tone, but didn't respond, his lips drawing tighter together. Dean must have thought that the silence was answer enough, because he ran his hands violently through his hair, eyes flickering back and forth in between green and obsidian too fast for Castiel to see. His wings fluffed up as he said, “You have the goddamned journal behind you, don't you?”

 

The tension drained from Sam, defeat taking it's place on his features. He slowly moved the small leather book out from behind his back, exposing the front of it to Dean. His thumb never left the page he was on as he did, as if there was something important that he had found. “I had to try.”

 

“Yeah, and now we're both gonna have to live with the fact that you couldn't keep your freaking hands to yourself.” Dean growled. His arms crossed tightly over his chest and he began to pace back and forth, seeming too full of energy to just remain still. Castiel was intrigued by the whole situation, but upset that Dean seemed so affected.

 

“I... I found something out.” Sam mumbled. Dean's walking halted and his eyes flickered to green again, staying this time. A brief flash of hope was in his eyes before it hardened again, him struggling to still remain angry.

 

“What did you find out, Sam?” He demanded, angrily. He couldn't help the small trickle of curiosity that made it's way into his voice, and Castiel felt his own thirst for knowledge triple.

 

“Well, first of all, dad left this behind as a guidebook on how to run the Moors. This wasn't some big secret thing, Dean. He meant it for us.” Sam said, slowly. He looked at Dean sincerely. Dean slowly relaxed, realization dawning on his features.

 

“So we were supposed to read it in the first place.” Dean said, a statement. Sam nodded his head. Dean took a shaky breath, running his hand across his face. He took a step forward and slunk down into the chair beside Sam, mumbling about something the entire time.

 

Sam opened up to the page that he was on, very tentatively. The book creaked with the movement, the scent of leather increasing. Dean looked over the pages and Castiel moved closer, hoping to see what they contained.

 

“What's this supposed to mean?” Dean asked, reaching out and taking the book from Sam. He scanned the pages intently. Sam was apparently very eager for Dean to know, because rather than just forcing him to read until he found out for himself, he spoke up.

 

“Mom was a human, Dean.” Sam said. Dean's eyes flickered up to Sam's, and the clear disbelief was written across his face. “Not when she died, but when her and dad met. He changed her into a fae so that he could be with her as long as he wanted to.”

 

“That's why she used to live next to Azazel.” Dean said out loud, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together as he realized that what Sam said was the truth. “It wasn't some weird exile. She really was a human.” He said, as if saying it out loud would somehow make him believe it to be true. He blinked, slowly, several times. The astonishment and curiosity stayed on his face as he flipped through the pages, confirming for himself what Sam had already said.

 

Castiel felt an odd sense of anger at their father for his act of hypocrisy in separating them, but he didn't let it come over him. He had obviously been through a lot that might have changed his opinions on humans, and there was no use in harboring anger towards the dead.

 

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Dean asked, suddenly. His head snapped up from the book, and he looked at Sam as if he was pleading. The hope on his features was almost too much for Castiel to bear; he needed to know what Dean was feeling, what he was thinking.

 

“Are you two planning on cluing me in?” Castiel asked, stubbornly. Two startled faces turned towards him, as if they had forgotten that he was there in the first place.

 

“Cas.” Dean said. “I think this means that there might be a way to make you into a fae.” Dean said, slowly. Castiel's interest peaked. “Is that something you would be interested in?”

 

“Spending the rest of my life and more with you is all I have ever wanted. If this will extend that, by all means, I would be supportive of the idea.” Castiel said, immediately. And you know what? Maybe he should think this through; maybe he's jumping into a decision; maybe he should consider what this could mean for his future. But he doesn't, and he won't. The words he spoke rang of truth, Dean had his hand print to prove that he loved him. There was nothing that could come in between them, not even death itself. Castiel didn't need to think.

 

“Okay. I think we'll have to do some digging, though. Some of the instructions are a little unclear...” Sam mumbled.

 

“Let's start, then.” Dean encouraged, grabbing a chair and pulling it up for Castiel.

~~~

The next week, Castiel was standing on the top of their cliff, hand lightly grazing the bark of the tree that had been Dean's home for the first thirty years of his life. Of course, recently he had been staying with Castiel, in the cabin, but it still held Dean's childhood.

 

Castiel can faintly remember the rough of the bark up against his back, as Dean pushed him against the tree, sixteen years ago. He can almost remember the blinding fear when Dean's father caught them.

 

He turned to Dean, smiling just the smallest bit. It was a bittersweet smile, one that proved that he knew what must be done. Dean returned it with equal thought, seemingly saddened by the turn of events.

 

“Well, it says it takes a radical display of trust.” Dean said, sighing. He looked towards the sky, clear nervousness twisting in his gut. “But it's not too late to call in Sam on this. It might work anyways, especially if we take into consideration-”

 

“Dean.” Castiel cut him off. “I can handle it.”

 

Dean looked pained, and he turned his head away. Castiel moved forward, his hands moving to cup Dean's slightly stubbled chin. He brought Dean forward for a kiss, the heat and warmth working, hopefully searing away any self-doubt that Dean might be feeling. After all, while Castiel couldn't help but be nervous, he trusted Dean with his life. He knew that Dean would catch him.

 

His hands moved to Dean's belt loops, and he began to slowly take baby steps backwards, pulling Dean along with him. As they broke away from the kisses, breathing each other's air, each time Castiel would make eye contact with Dean, trying to make him see and understand that everything would be okay. Trying to let Dean know that he was strong, and that Dean should be, too. Trying to let him know that he had faith in the two of them.

 

They passed the tree, and Castiel felt the very tip of his heel hover over the great abyss, into the air of the sky. Castiel pulled away this time, looking into Dean's eyes.

 

“Don't be afraid.” Castiel said, gently. Dean's eyes were deep pools of green full of emotion, and in his mind, Castiel was already falling. He leaned forward and gave Dean one more, bruising kiss. Dean's hands rested on his hips and used the leverage to pull Castiel closer, as if they could melt into one just by doing this. Castiel pulled away this time, using his hands to gently move Dean's hands off of him.

 

“I'll see you soon.” Dean said, as he let go. Castiel nodded his head.

 

Really, though, he could die in this. He could die, and he would have felt it worth it. He could be taking his last breaths, and he wouldn't care more than that he was doing something for Dean. Dean was absolute endgame; even if Cas knew that he could live without Dean, he also knew that Dean was worth dying for a thousand times over. So, through the fear and danger and choking adrenaline searing through his veins, the only thing that was clear in his mind was that Dean felt the same.

 

And Dean wouldn't let anything like that happen.

 

So, he closed his eyes, relaxed his body, calmed his breathing as much as he could, and he allowed himself to fall.

 

It wasn't as bad as he was expecting. The first few seconds felt foreign; Castiel was waiting for the inevitable scream to tear itself from his lips, but that didn't happen. The air seemed to curl around him as he shot downwards like a bullet, and he didn't seem to much mind the feeling that his stomach was in his throat. The wind was whipping his hair in ten different directions and the sky was surrounding him like he had belonged there from the start, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins made it difficult to breathe as he fought his instincts to thrash and scream. So, it was bad, but not as bad as he would have thought.

 

It was almost like a battle-calm had settled over him, surrounding him in a fuzzy haze of adrenaline-fueled calm. It was so strong that he almost didn't feel it when the green tendrils of magic wrapped around him, almost didn't feel his bones screaming as something happened, burning magic through his veins, changing him in ways he couldn't hope to describe.

 

He grew claws. He looked down at his fingers, and there they were. He felt the stinging pain in his head as something tore out of his skin, and felt a vague brush against his cheek as something appeared that had not been there before. He felt magic sear through his veins, and knew by instinct that it was now his to command.

 

Lastly, there was a searing pain in his shoulders as two large wings flew out, black as midnight.

 

The wind caught in his feathers, and Castiel wrapped the wings closer to his body, using vague movements to turn so that he was facing the ground. With a great burst of his newly found magic, having no purpose whatsoever other than to prove that it was there, his wings opened and stopped his descent, flapping of their own accord.

 

It wasn't until a couple of moments later that Dean appeared beside him, eyes wide as he looked up and down Castiel's form. Castiel noticed a couple of drops of blood drip from his chin, and he realized that the horns had caused him to bleed. Dean looked worried, but he didn't say anything about it, other than to wave that Cas should follow him back up.

 

His wings were bulky and awkward, but Castiel had seen Dean's go through these motions enough that he knew how to use them. Dean and himself spiraled upwards and around each other in what would look to any onlooker like a majestic dance, carving out their own little place in the wind.

 

When they landed, Castiel was overcome by a wave of exhaustion and pain. His knees gave out from under him, and his wings dragged on the ground as his hands fisted the grass. His breathing was heavy and awkward, and he could _feel_ the skin knitting together, and around, the horns. Dean dropped to his own knees in front of him, hands going between Castiel's horns and his skin to cup his face. Anxiety was rolling off of him.

 

“Cas, are you okay? Cas, buddy,” Dean said, worry creasing his face. “Are you in pain?”

 

“As you would so delicately put it,” Castiel started, still panting, “That 'hurt like a bitch'.”

 

Dean pulled him forward and pushed their lips together, warmth searing through him. Castiel hummed his approval as Dean's knuckle brushed up against one of his horns, causing a jolt of hot arousal to go through him. The pain was slowly fading, but he was still left exhausted.

 

“Don't scare me like that again. I wasn't expecting you to jump then, I was so scared I wasn't going to get the spell done in time.” Dean confessed, planting kisses all across Cas's face.

 

“I wasn't any more than halfway to the ground when you got it done.” Castiel said, stubbornly. “There wasn't anything to worry about.”

 

“God I love you.” Dean said in response, one of his kisses straying and getting planted right onto Castiel's horn. Castiel gave a small gasp, very firmly pushing Dean away with a look of warning.

 

“I'm absolutely exhausted. We're not doing anything right now.” Castiel scolded. Dean looked confused for a moment, seeming to have just now realized what he had done. His eyes widened as he looked over Cas's horns, and he gave a gulp. He looked at Castiel like something amazing had just occurred to him, even more so than he usually did. He shook his head, as if trying to clear it.

 

“You... I mean....” Dean made several vague gestures towards him, looking entirely overwhelmed before giving an over exaggerated sigh and smacking his hands back down. “You know what, we'll deal with this later. For now, we're going to sleep.”

 

He moved forward and used some vague magic to lift Castiel, wrapping his arms around the underside of his body before walking a few steps to the tree. Castiel squirmed, trying to get out of the hold, but Dean held on firm.

 

“No, you're tired. I'm carrying you to bed no matter how independent you are.” Dean said, practically reading his mind. Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and pouted as Dean's magic produced steps, that led up into the tree. Once he was there, another wave of his hand made a nice, solid hammock, in which he unceremoniously dumped Castiel. Castiel's wings flared in surprise as he landed, giving a glare at Dean.

 

Dean crouched down and joined him in the soft overhang, snuggling into Castiel's warmth. Cas was too tired to say anything more, and it wasn't long until he was asleep, Dean's warm body and the comforting sway of the breeze being too much for him to take.

~~~

When he woke, the first thing Castiel noticed was that Dean was breathing on one of his horns, making very small shudders wrack their way up his body.

 

“Dean.” He said, pushing at his other half. Dean responded by half-heartedly turning away, mumbling something about five more minutes. Now, without the distraction to cloud his thoughts, Castiel bolted upright. Dean's body was violently jostled, and he jumped, clinging to Castiel as if he was afraid of falling out of their nest. Cas's thoughts swirled around violently as he processed everything that had happened, flexing his wings just to make sure that they were really there.

 

“Dude!” Dean said, accusingly. Castiel looked at him directly, and intentionally focused on trying to flicker his eyes black. Dean caught up to where he was, and he took a sharp breath.

 

“I'm feeling a little overwhelmed right now, that's something you have to understand.” Castiel said. Dean blinked, slowly processing everything that had happened. He nodded his head, sitting back in the hammock.

 

The sun was high now, proving that they had slept for at least a couple of hours. Castiel yawned and stretched involuntarily, feeling the hammock rock with his motion. He gave Dean a sleepy smile, which was returned with an uneasy look. He felt his eyebrows pull together as his curiosity gave a weak pulse.

 

“What is it?” He questioned. In answer, Dean raised his hands and in between them appeared a large mirror, wavy and just a little translucent. Castiel figured that it was made of water; their powers were connected mainly to nature, after all.

 

It took a few moments for Castiel to actually _look_ in the mirror. He scanned over his blue eyes, his slightly tan (but paler than usual after the stress of the day) complexion, and his tossled hair before he finally allowed himself to look at his horns.

 

His horns were unlike any he had seen before, or any that he had heard Dean and Sam talk about. They were thick and off-white and curved in tight spirals, going up a couple of inches before bending downwards, continuing to spiral straight down as they framed his face like a picture. He stared at them for a little while, feeling an odd kind of satisfaction in his gut. They were absolutely gorgeous, if he had anything to say about it.

 

After a little while, Dean waved his hands and the mirror disappeared again. He looked at Castiel and the oddly reserved look of awe came onto his face again. “Those horns mean something, Cas. You know how Sam and I told you that the horns of a fae sometimes indicate how much power they have? How that's why I'm in charge of the moors, because I'm the third-most powerful type?”

 

“I vaguely remember this conversation, yes.” Castiel said, nodding. Sam was still fairly powerful, but had different power specialties than Dean (Sam was better at healing, for example). He remembered them mentioning that the first most powerful type of horns hadn't been seen for centuries, and many fae disregarded them as a myth now.

 

“Well, you're more powerful than even I am, Cas.” Dean said, smiling dopily. Castiel didn't really care that much about power; it seemed trivial to him. “And by that, I mean that you're probably the most powerful fae on the face of the earth right now.”

 

Now that gave Cas a pause. There was a moment of pause before he got over the surprise, and he nodded his head. “I don't care.”

 

“You... don't care? I've just dropped a bombshell like that, and you _don't care_?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. Castiel shrugged, nodding his head. Sure he could feel the power coursing through his veins, but that didn't mean that it was important to him. He had always been able to protect himself; now it was just going to be easier.

 

“I don't care. Dean, that doesn't matter to me.” Castiel said, shrugging. “You'll keep protecting the moors, I'll find something to busy myself with. Sam will protect the people while we're traveling. That's been the plan from the start; I don't understand why that matters.”

 

“Oh.” Dean said, nodding his head thoughtfully. “I hadn't thought of it that way. Okay.”

 

Dean shifted then, so that he could better talk to Castiel. His legs were splayed on either side of Cas's hips, his hands on Cas's shoulders. Castiel shifted his position a bit, suddenly uncomfortable with Dean's warmth. He didn't think it was really an appropriate time for thoughts like the ones he was having to be sneaking into his head, especially not after a conversation so serious.

 

Dean leaned forward then, pressing warm, long kisses to Castiel's lips. Cas let his lips fall open, and he let out a small noise of appreciation as Dean's tongue stroked his own, causing a small heat to start under Cas's skin. Dean pulled off once they were both out of breath, but almost immediately lead Cas's lips to his neck.

 

“Hey, give me a hickey. It's been a few days and the ones from before are fading.” Dean instructed, one of his hands tangling in Castiel's hair.

 

Cas quickly attached his lips to Dean's neck, nibbling and sucking. Dean made small noises of approval from above him, and his skin brushed up against Cas's horns. It was no time before Castiel was aching and hard in his pants, and Dean grinding down on him, his fingers still pulling at Cas's hair. As soon as Cas was done, Dean started planting kisses and giving small licks to his horns, causing Castiel's hips to buck upwards.

 

“God, Dean,” He panted, leaning into the teasing touches. Dean gave a dark chuckle, moving his lips down to Cas's neck and giving his own rough sucks. None were hard enough to leave a hickey, but they were enough to make Castiel's dick twitch in interest. He was so hard that it almost hurt.

 

“Stop,” He finally gasped, pushing Dean off of him. Dean pulled away, curiously tilting his head to the side. “I want to ride you.”

 

Dean's eyes darkened in arousal, and he nodded his head in consent.

 

Castiel used his wings to help balance him as they switched positions, the hammock swaying dangerously before they were settled. As soon as it was done, Castiel reached down and grasped his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. His wings got caught a couple of times on the way out, and he resorted to using magic to rip through the fabric, so that he could get it over his head. He threw aside the offending piece of fabric in disgust, knowing that with his wings like this wearing it again would be out of the question.

 

He gave Dean more of a show taking off his pants. He stood up slowly, and grabbed a branch to support him in the hammock as he did. Castiel made eye contact with Dean as he _slowly_ pulled them off, his cock curving seductively out as he revealed inch after inch of his own skin. Dean sat up, eyes hungry as he looked at Cas's erection.

 

“Later.” Castiel said, knowing that if he let Dean put his mouth on his dick, he would probably cum before he ever got the chance to do what he wanted to. He turned around, slowly lowering himself down and bending forward as much as he could in the cramped space. “Care to do the honors?”

 

“I think you knew the answer to that before you asked it.” Dean responded slyly. It was only a few moments before the air was filled with the scent of the oil that Dean liked to use, and Castiel forced his muscles to relax in preparation. He felt a very small touch, tentative, at his entrance. He hissed in a breath as the finger slowly pushed inside, moving around as he slowly got used to the foreign intrusion.

 

As soon as he was relaxed, the second finger joined. Castiel pushed back onto them, impatient to get started. Dean gave a small chuckle, his warm hand coming to rest on Cas's hip as he continued to thrust his fingers in and out, brushing up against Cas's prostate. Cas let out a strained groan, panting as Dean continued to push and scissor his fingers in and out. It wasn't long until Cas had had enough of the teasing.

 

“Stop.” He commanded. Dean's fingers stilled inside of him for a moment, before Dean purposefully pushed against his prostate.

 

“Why, are you having a little bit of trouble keeping your self control?” Dean purred, continuing to knead the small bundle of nerves. Castiel couldn't help the buck that his hips gave; but it did serve a nice second purpose. Dean was too surprised to follow and his fingers slipped out, leaving Cas free.

 

Cas turned around as quickly as he could in the current conditions, happy to see that Dean had taken off his loin cloth while he had been turned around. He quickly leaned forward and grabbed the oil from Dean, pouring a generous amount in his hands before he slicked up Dean's dick, pointedly ignoring the gasps and moans from Dean. Once he was sure the entire thing was covered, he shifted forward a few inches, raising up.

 

Dean's hands went to his hips, and Cas put a firm hand on his shoulder, just above the hand print. He relaxed as he slowly allowed himself to sink down onto Dean's dick, savoring the feeling of being full and stretched. It burned a little, sure, but that was certainly made up for by the look of utter bliss on Dean's face.

 

Dean made small, measured movements at first, shifting his hips or giving out a little keen, begging Cas to move. It wasn't long before he was impatiently giving small thrusts into Cas.

 

“Ask me for it.” Castiel requested. Dean nodded his head, giving a small sigh.

 

“Please, Cas. Please move.” He requested submissively. Castiel slowly began to raise his hips up, relishing the burn in his thighs as he moved. Dean released the breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, nails digging into Cas's hips as he silently urged Cas to go faster.

 

Castiel took it nice and slow, savouring Dean's small and strangled sounds, hearing some of his own small noises leave his lips as he sank all the way down, shifting _just so_ so that Dean's cock ground against his prostate. Dean leaned forward and pressed warm and hot kisses into Cas's skin as his hips bucked upwards, trying to move things along. Castiel enjoyed the warm and wet lips against his skin, and he returned a few of them himself.

 

“Faster, Cas.” Came from Dean's mouth, sounding desperate and needy. Castiel found that the glorious sound went straight to his dick, and a drop of precum swelled on his tip. He finally relented, hips beginning to really work as he felt Dean's cock repeatedly hitting his prostate. Dean's hips moved faster, too, Cas's name being whispered and gasped faster and faster as Cas moved.

 

Cas's own hips gave a startled snap downwards as Dean's fingers tangled in his black wings, and his senses lit up. Castiel had been ahead of Dean, keeping control better, he had been fully prepared for Dean to cum before him. Now, he wasn't so sure. Dean's hand slowly kneaded through his feathers, and Cas thought that is felt almost as good as if Dean would just flat out wrap a hand around his dick.

 

“Dean, oh, Dean.” He moaned, finally bringing their lips together in a heated kiss. His hips worked faster and he focused on making this last as long as he possible could, the feeling of Dean filling him up and rubbing against his walls, accompanied by the hand in his feathers, made the entire experience almost breathtaking.

 

“Fuck yeah, Cas, that's right.” Dean responded, his voice coming out rough and wrecked. Castiel knew that his own voice had dropped down to a seductive purr, and he could only guess that his eyes were as black as midnight. He gave a soft gasp as Dean's hips snapped upwards and nailed his prostate, the pleasure starting to cloud his head as Dean kept whispering sweet nothings into his ear. “You're so good, so warm, Cas, baby. I want you to cum, gonna make you feel so good, _god, Cas._ ”

 

“ _Dean_.” Cas returned. He moved his hand down an inch, connecting it fully over the hand print there.

 

Once again, his entire body lit up as he rode out the waves of pleasure, shooting long, hot streams of his cum onto Dean's chest. He heard his own name in return, and felt the sticky, hot sensation of Dean filling him up with his cum. Castiel felt his body shudder at the feeling, and he waited until Dean was completely done before he stopped moving, waiting for the bliss to fade.

 

Dean started to soften inside of him, and he raised his hips up, letting him slip out. Dean gave a small sound of appreciation as Cas snuggled into his neck, placing a kiss there.

 

“That was amazing.” Dean said, glancing over at the setting sun. Castiel smiled against his skin.

 

“I have to go and wash myself in the waterfall soon. Care to join me?” He requested, pushing his body a little further against Dean's and adding a suggestive undertone to his voice.

 

Dean chuckled. “You're never quite done, are you?”

~~~

Time went by rapidly in the moors. The place always held the kind of magic for Cas as it did the first time he came around, and Dean and Sam were always close by.

 

Dean and Cas had done a little traveling so far, but not all that much. They were fairly content for the time being, and Castiel didn't want to go anywhere until Meg popped by for another visit. It had been three months since that day, two months since he became a fae, and a month since he realized that Dean and him had both stopped aging-- essentially leaving them immortal, except for battle. It's a dizzying feeling, having all the time in the world.

 

But he's happy about it. He's always thought that the world was a big place, but he only just began to grasp the concept that now, he and Dean would get to explore all of it. Sam would stop aging in a few years, and the three of them would be friends and stay together for all of time, if Cas had his way. He may very well not, but he can hope.

 

Sam pulled him aside one day, hope and love shining in his eyes as he handed Castiel his book back. It was the one that Meg had given him- he had lent it to Sam in hopes of gaining someone to discuss it with, since he and Meg had never gotten the chance. Sam had devoured the pages, commenting and warning Castiel not to spoil anything all along the way. Gabriel and Dean had rolled their eyes during these conversations, having teasingly loud ones of their own, accompanied by phrases like, 'how could I like such a fucking nerd?' or 'who knew reading would be the only thing I needed to provide to get him to shut up'. All such were ignored.

 

“Thank you. I loved the ending.” Sam said genuinely, sincerity radiating off of him. Castiel nodded, feeling satisfaction blooming in his chest. The ending had been his favourite part.

 

“Yes, I found it to be quite in character in the cruelest of ways.” Castiel admitted. Sam smiled a bit, and Castiel noticed the way his arms crossed across his chest and his feet shuffled on the ground. Sam was nervous about something. “What is it?”

 

  
“Well, I, uh...” Sam started, and then lowered his voice a little, leaning forward to talk to Cas. “I know of a town nearby where the people wouldn't recognize you. If you wanted to, you could go there and buy books with money you could get by providing fresh fruit to the vendors.” Sam ventured. Castiel's eyes widened, and his entire body lit up with his interest.

 

“You know Dean wouldn't approve of something like that.” Castiel said, knowing already that it was a losing phrase. Neither he nor Sam found it all that appealing to listen to Dean or his fears, even if he had become much less of an extremist since finding out that their mother had been a human once.

 

“Yeah, but that's why we're gonna make him come with us to prove that it's safe.” Sam said, smirking. Castiel smiled back at him, nodding his head.

 

“I suppose while we're there I could teach you a great deal more about human culture and medicine than I could from in here. Are we going to tell him where we're going before we get there?” Castiel asked, raising his eyebrows. Sam thought for a moment.

 

“Yeah, but only when we're like two hundred feet away. I don't want him to know until we're already most of the way there, but I also don't want to lead him into something like that without him really knowing, you know?” Sam asked. Castiel nodded his head. He would have to agree to the plan; not telling Dean until they were already in the town would be cruel on their part.

 

“I guess it's a plan then.” Castiel said. Sam nodded his head, smiling.

 

“This isn't much different than my visits to the human world to interact with doctors, but he put up specific barriers there that he couldn't risk putting up around here due to all the traffic. But I still think he won't find it all that bad once he's in the town. It's a very... liberal, environment.” Sam assured, mostly talking to himself now. Castiel had to smile at him.

 

“Of course it is, Sam. I have to go; I feel Dean tugging at my mind, and I doubt it's a situation you'll want to be present for.” He said.

 

A little while after Cas had become a fae, he and Dean had discovered that there was now a connection between them-- not a lot could pass through, but general feelings of physical and emotional want were definitely things that Cas could feel, and he knew that Dean was tugging at the link right now, trying to make it wider.

 

Sam scrunched up his face, holding up his hands in a 'stop right there!' gesture. “Okay, okay, I get it. Go have fun with your boyfriend, okay.” Castiel nodded his head, turning to leave. Sam grabbed his shoulder one last time, though, and Cas turned back, his eyebrows scrunching together as he wondered what Sam wanted. Sam's face was full of emotion, as if he was suddenly overcome by it. “You know, I never got the chance to really thank you. Without you, I really think Dean would have gone crazy from the grief. You saved him, Cas. I couldn't be more grateful for that.”

 

Cas softened. “Thank you, Sam. It was my pleasure to become a part of your and Dean's life. You know I think of you as a brother.”

 

Sam let go then, noticing Cas's flinch at a particularly demanding tug. God, Dean was a diva when it came to wanting Cas when he wanted him. Castiel gave an apologetic smile as he turned away, headed back to his mate.

 

Castiel was the happiest he had ever been and happiest he ever could be in the moors. He had Dean and Sam, he had Gabriel, who had also become his close friend. He had plans to travel the world with Dean, see great sights and exotic places and kiss Dean in front of fantastic views. He wanted to see and experience everything he could.

 

Although it may sound cliché, Castiel had found in the moors his personal happily ever after. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! PLEASE kudos, comment, etc!  
> And my next little chunk of work is christmas presents/fics, so I will be ENTIRELY open to prompts pretty much at all times, if you want to request one!  
> My tumblr is mysticmoonhigh if you would like to follow me. Thank you again for reading!


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